


Short Stories II

by circuit_breaker



Category: Shadowrun: Hong Kong
Genre: Gen, it's recommended to read the comments as they are more interesting than the chapters, posthumanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circuit_breaker/pseuds/circuit_breaker
Summary: A collection of short stories which can be read separately. The snippets do not necessarily feature the same protagonist. The end of the first chapter includes a table of contents with brief summaries of each chapter.The latest short story: [Gobbet, Duncan Wu, Gaichu, Racter] A Ride Back Home





	1. [Racter] Discussions of the Future

**Author's Note:**

> "You will join me, won't you? The future beckons the both of us equally. Follow me, and I will guide you into a better tomorrow. I can think of nothing that would please me more."

Racter’s feet are out of his shoes when I get down. The sight makes me think that he probably doesn’t get many visitors down here… Considering his past words, I’d imagine that he’d be more interested in hiding his cybernetic parts otherwise, after all.

”Good evening, my friend”, he says, turning away from a couple of screens. The displays are flooded with text. It’s impossible to read the lines since they move way too fast upwards.

”What is that?” I ask.

”I’m updating my tools… And waiting for the automatic processes to finish their work”, he replies. ”If you came to talk, this is a good time. I can’t continue with my tasks at the moment.”

”Excellent. I indeed came to have a chat… I’ve been mulling over your offer”, I say. His smile becomes slightly wider.

”And…?” he invites me to continue.

”Let’s say that I’m at least _interested_. I didn’t come here to join you, but I didn’t come to decline your offer either… I simply have many questions.”

Koschei appears from the shadows. Ever since Racter told me of his background, the drone has been a bit calmer around me – well, not hostile, if anything. Racter slides his fingers over Koschei.

”Very well. You can ask me, if you came here for that purpose”, the rigger says. I scratch the back of my neck.

”What if we start with the basics… _Singularity_. From what I’ve understood, the idea is that technological advancements happen… Really, _really_ fast.”

”At an exponential growth rate”, Racter confirms with a nod. ”Doesn’t that sound alluring?”

” _Puzzling_ , to be honest. According to some posthumanistic sources, our current progress is like a bird trying to rise from the ground; the singularity, in turn, seems like a rocket going directly upwards”, I state and demonstrate my words through hand gestures. “I think that our current speed is quick already. There are countless inventions and discoveries which go over the heads of many. Wouldn’t that extreme speed be confusing — if not even Hellish — to comprehend?”

Racter waves his index finger.

“You would be correct _if_ our minds were the same at that point. The technological advancements would transform _us_ , too – even more thoroughly than our current transhumanistic extensions. Say, you might find this text hard to read currently”, he points at the screens behind him. “But that wouldn’t be any problem to a posthumanistic life form. In fact, they might consider this feed too slow and, thus, frustrating to follow.”

“Wouldn’t we still get lost into the trap of a constant flow of updates? If we wanted to stay up-to-date, we would need to be aware of all new upgrades and inventions, all the time; moreover, I imagine that it would require some time to _get_ those upgrades... If you waited even for just a moment, your features and devices would already become covered in dust”, I go on.

“As I mentioned, the concept of time would be very different in the era of posthumanism. Your thoughts and movements would be greatly improved, even in unimaginable measures; as a result, you wouldn’t find it difficult at all to follow the rhythm of progress. Besides, no-one would be telling you to stay completely upgraded at all times...” Racter replies.

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable about being less advanced than others... Your idea of the posthumanistic future says that we would have a society consisting of predators. I doubt that it would be wise to be weaker than others.”

Racter chuckles.

“You are implying that other posthumanistic entities would devour you. It isn’t indeed clever to trust others too much; on the other hand, other life forms would prove to be of enough challenge. Furthermore: As you can see, I may be a psychopath, but I see value in our alliance. The posthumanistic future would be different in many aspects, but it’s likely that cooperation would still be a beneficial arrangement.”

“As long as both parties consider each other useful enough. Wouldn’t such beings prefer to seek optimal company? The ones who benefit you the most? A less upgraded ally would be less attractive than someone with more refined traits... Why settle for less than the best?” I ask.

”Well, I could suggest some possibilities. First of all, optimal alliances might be too difficult to obtain and maintain. There are goals which do not require the best of the best; in fact, such assets would be an overkill. Secondly… Some individuals would prefer to have slightly weaker companions. Their allies would be useful enough without being a potential risk. This preference isn’t anything new: many rulers have struck down their strongest allies and citizens, just so they wouldn’t pose a threat to the existing power structures”, Racter replies.

”Hmm, perhaps”, I say with a thoughtful frown. ”Your latest point brings me to another question... You say that we need to evolve so that we could fight against the other beings: say, dragons. Why would such powerful beings allow that development to happen? I’d imagine that they’d do the same exact thing as those rulers of the past… Keep metahumans weak enough for their tastes.”

”Mm, dragons are strong, but they can’t know everything which happens on this planet. They trust that the essence limit cannot be broken, and that feeds their sense of security… They think that the posthumanistic movement is just a silly joke, created by metahumans who have deluded pipe dreams. The majority of metahumans would agree with them, as well”, Racter answers. ”We know better than that, though, my friend… There _is_ a way to go around the essence limit.”

I touch my chin softly with my fingers, staring at Racter’s unblinking gaze. As usual, it’s hard to read his thoughts.

”How many know of your observations?” I ask finally.

”Not many. I do thorough testing before diving that deep… Many people have run away after learning about my physical condition; most escape after hearing about my psychological state. A couple of individuals stayed until it was time to discuss the posthumanistic future… The visions were too much for them. They considered me insane; insisted that I should seek professional help”, Racter pauses for a moment and shrugs. ”Disappointing, _very_ disappointing – but, to think positively, they won’t compromise the mission by spreading the information too wide. Who would take a 'madman' seriously, after all?”

”… Am I the only one who has sticked around this long?” I ask.

”You have figured the answer already, haven’t you?” he asks in return.

I pinch my nose and take a deep breath in, eyes closed. Racter steps closer – I can hear the metallic sounds of his feet touching the floor.

”Now, you might be wondering whether you _should_ react like the others… Whether you should be concerned of your own curiosity. I ask, in turn, whether you would feel this way without knowing of those others?” he asks.

Strangely enough, his voice sounds softer when my eyes are closed – as though his words were one with the smoke floating all around. I know that he stands close.

”I am not accusing you of weakness… You simply seem to be struggling with your metahuman nature. In general, metahumans have a tendency of twisting their own beliefs to fit into the group… They will start to doubt their own thoughts if the majority thinks differently. However, you must remember that the majority can be wrong; common beliefs aren’t the same as the truth. Now, my friend, I will ask you: will you allow your self-doubt to rule over you, or will you…”

Beeps. I open my eyes and see how Racter has turned his head to the screens. When he turns his attention back to me, I’m already running up the stairs.

He doesn’t go after me.

I enter my room and close the door behind me. The room is silent, but my head is filled with many knots and conflicting thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please note that the descriptions and chapters may include spoilers for the game!** Use ctrl + f to find specific characters. The titles are links to the right chapters.  
> 
> 
>   1. [Racter — Discussions of the Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/44433346): The protagonist has questions about the posthumanistic future, starting from the concept of singularity.  
> 
>   2. [Racter — Discussions of the Future II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/44985820#workskin): A continuation of the previous chapter, now going into some different branches of the posthumanistic movement.  
> 
>   3. [Duncan Wu — The Muscles and the Brain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/45652840#workskin): Duncan tries to help his stubborn sibling who suffers from nightmares and insomnia.  
> 
>   4. [Racter — Fear of the](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/45847048#workskin): When the crew got kidnapped by the HKPF, the protagonist thinks that they saw something particularly interesting.  
> 
>   5. [Is0bel — (In)efficiency](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/46214761#workskin): Is0bel isn’t a merciful teacher to lazy students.  
> 
>   6. [Racter — Discussions of the Past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/46660477#workskin): The protagonist requests Racter to explain what got him interested in the posthumanistic movement in the first place. Discussing Racter’s past, Russian cosmism, etc.  
> 
>   7. [Racter — Transmissions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/47835901#workskin): The protagonist has a conversation with an injured Racter.  
> 
>   8. [Racter — Lessons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/47921863#workskin): Racter teaches Russian to the protagonist.  
> 
>   9. [Gaichu & Racter — Connections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/49113503#workskin): The protagonist realizes that Gaichu and Racter have been spending time together outside of runs. What are Gaichu’s thoughts on Racter?  
> 
>   10. [Is0bel — Forming Plans](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/49424282#workskin): The protagonist requests Is0bel to explain her plan for an upcoming run.  
> 
>   11. [Racter — Connections 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/50335937#workskin): A continuation to _Chapter 9_. It’s Racter’s turn to reflect on his opinions of Gaichu.  
> 
>   12. [Racter — Appearances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/50336123#workskin): The protagonist gets an opportunity to study Racter’s cybernetic parts. Includes nudity which is not sexual.  
> 
>   13. [Racter & Koschei — Trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/50336324#workskin): The protagonist visits Racter’s workshop when he isn’t present.  
> 
>   14. [Racter/The Protagonist — Out of Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/52386574#workskin): Romantic elements. The protagonist takes care of Racter’s hands.  
> 
>   15. [Racter — Questions of Design](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/52588966#workskin): Racter has built a strange drone which captures the protagonist’s attention.  
> 
>   16. [Gaichu — Shapes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/53064061): Gaichu takes care of an injured protagonist.  
> 
>   17. [Gaichu & Racter — The Consequences of Actions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/53215357#workskin): The protagonist demands Gaichu to explain his brutal decision.  
> 
>   18. [Gobbet, Duncan Wu, Gaichu, Racter — A Ride Back Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732943/chapters/53777692#workskin): The crew chats about their recent run while traveling back to home.  
> 
> 



	2. [Racter] Discussions of the Future II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unusual since it is a continuation to the previous one. If you wish to avoid confusions, it may be for the best to read the first chapter of this collection.

The next time I go down, Racter ignores my presence for a prolonged moment. It feels awkward to just stand there, waiting for his reaction – or a lack thereof. He is cleaning up his desk while smoking a cigarette. He is so slow. Does he do it deliberately to make me feel nervous? Or am I already so nervous that time _feels_ like a snail: slow, tedious, slimy?

My forehead is also becoming slimy because of a layer of cold sweat.

“Well, my friend. You ran away like the others, but you came back – for what purpose?”

I almost startle when he addresses me. He doesn’t smile this time. I have always considered his eyes chilling. Now, the temperatures drop even lower.

“I’m sorry”, I simply say, and he tilts his head. He studies me for a moment in silence. I notice that Koschei does the same under the desk.

“You acknowledge that you left in an impolite manner, then… In a remarkably impolite manner, even, considering that we had just discussed my prior experiences with other individuals. Those others were small disappointments compared to the one which you caused, through your actions. I expected better from you.”

If Racter tries to pour salt on the wounds, he is successful.

“At any rate – let’s say that I’ll accept your apology. I do require that you’ll explain the reasons behind your past behavior, though. That information could save us from repeating this same scenario again. Why did you run away?” he asks.

He tosses the ball back at me, waiting for an answer. I cross my arms and look away from him.

“I don’t know. I became overwhelmed by the situation.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I was too eager to guide you from your self-doubt”, he says thoughtfully. “I may forget how such emotions work at times – how your conscious side does not have a direct control over them. That will change in the posthumanistic era, of course…” He stops and smiles. “Ah, it seems like I’m getting carried away. You aren’t probably ready for further discussions, correct?”

“Actually… I would be interested in continuing with the topic, as long as you do not ask me to decide”, I reply.

“In that case… I assume that you have questions, yes?”

My nervousness has become much milder.

“Yes – many of them. Say… The word _posthumanism_ seems to have many different interpretations. From what I’ve gathered, some people treat the word as post- _human_ -ism: a future after mankind. Some others, in turn, focus on the meaning post- _humanism_ … Which seems to mean completely something else… Would you like to explain this mess to me?” I ask.

“Posthumanism isn’t indeed the most organized movement out there – if you can call it one single movement in the first place. You mention some good examples of such interpretations; however, there are even more categories, all of which have their own subcategories...”

“I asked you to clarify things instead of confusing me further”, I point out. Racter chuckles.

“... For instance, some post- _human_ -ists vision a future in which mankind has gone through a complete metamorphosis… So thorough that we wouldn’t have any trace of our current humanhood left”, he continues.

“And you’d fall into this category?” I ask.

“Yes, you could say so”, he replies with a nod. “There are other kinds of post-human-ists, though. For example, some think that we will die out – a tiresome and highly unimaginative bunch of self-defeatists. I recommend staying away from their company...

“As for post- _humanism_ : You are correct that post-humanism takes a different perspective. It isn’t interested in the future of metahumans as species… Instead of that, it challenges the classical views about humanity: What is the definition of humanity? Should we give up on the worldview which centers on metahumans? Are metahumans more special than other entities?”

“Other entities..?” I say, encouraging Racter to elaborate.

“Animals, artificial intelligences, inanimate objects, et cetera”, he replies and waves his hand through a line of smoke.

“Inanimate objects? I understand animals and somehow also artificial intelligences – but shouldn’t it be clear that humanoid beings are more special than rocks?” I ask, a bit baffled.

“So-called obvious things may be deceptive, my friend. Your reaction reminds me of Freud. He stated that men have experienced three major outrages: The realization that our planet isn’t the center of the universe; Darwin’s theory of evolution; and Freud’s suggestions that our consciousness isn’t even the master of the mind. These ideas might not be difficult to accept nowadays – but back then, they robbed men of their grandiose self-image”, Racter says.

“But still – a rock, Racter… A _rock_. You aren’t seriously saying that we could be compared to something like that?”

He and Koschei shrug simultaneously.

“Metahuman beings and rocks have different qualities, of course. That question would be inane. These post-humanists wonder whether our minds are purely physical – whether our experiences are a result of physical reactions. I’m sure that you haven’t forgotten our discussions about materialism, idealism, reductionism, holism and causal determinism?”

Ah. Yeah. Those.

“No, I haven't. We do not need to comb through those again”, I say.

“Good”, he nods. “You mentioned that you aren’t puzzled by people discussing artificial intelligences. We know that they are purely physical, just like a rock is. Therefore, why would you feel offended by rocks and not AIs? Where is the line?”

“Frankly, these thoughts are making my head hurt”, I state. “… Since I know that you are a hardcore materialist yourself, I can’t help but wonder… Doesn’t that affect your self-image at all, in a devaluing way?”

“Not at all, my friend… Not at all. Even though this may sound paradoxical, our fall may be necessary for our rise as gods. Our physical nature isn’t a trap – it’s _freedom_ … Complete power to redefine ourselves, our bodies and our minds, through manmade science. If we had supernatural souls, we might not have any control over them; and if we were created by an almighty being, we would be caged by their visions”, he goes on. I’m starting to feel uneasy because of the grandiosity of his words.

“The contradicting ideas are interesting… On the one hand, posthumanism questions the significance of metahumans. On the other hand, posthumanism insists that metahumans are, in fact, special… That they will be the ones to make the irreversible leap”, I say.

“Those may seem like contradictions. However, posthumanism doesn’t insist that metahumans are the only ones who could reach that state. We just happen to be close to it, closer than any other entities on this planet”, he points out. “Not all agree that metahumans would be at the top of evolution. There are posthumanists who believe in the birth of an omnipotent AI… Metahumans who dream of creating a god, to fill the void of superstitious deities.”

Racter shakes his head softly, signaling his opinions on such individuals.

“It’s getting late, but I have still one more thing to ask. Speaking of 'superstitious deities'… Would you be this eager about posthumanism if you were Awakened?” I ask.

“You asked me once whether I might’ve followed in my grandfather’s footsteps, if some things had turned out differently. _What if_ questions may be interesting to ponder, but they won’t lead us anywhere. Things are as they are – not as they could’ve potentially been”, he states. “I insist that posthumanism leads to more equality, though. Supernatural powers come as rare gifts; posthumanistic advancements, in turn, could transform everyone’s lives.”

“Everyone’s? Why, I’ve gotten the impression that you’d need to be a psychopath to become a real posthuman?” I can’t help but question. Racter takes a drag on his cigarette and stares at me.

“I haven’t said that ‘normal’ metahumans couldn’t be shaped into psychopaths”, he states finally. It feels as if his eyes tried to drill through my eyes into my brain.

I break eye contact and take a deep breath in.

“Okay. I think that I’ll need a break… Thanks for your answers”, I say.

“You are welcome, my friend. Feel free to come back if you have more questions”, he replies. After that, he turns his attention back to his projects; and I go out of his workshop... Giving myself credit for walking instead of running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, corrections are welcome.


	3. [Duncan Wu] The Muscles and the Brain

”Wow. When have _you_ turned into some chiphead nosferatu?”

Wu had been sitting on a bed, taking a thorough care of his equipment – but now, he was just staring at me.

“Ha. Very funny”, I stated.

“Seriously. I mean it. You look – _awful_. As if you had gone through a gazillion of dumpshocks in a row–“

“Enough!” I cut in. “My sleep has been shoddy lately. Those nightmares, remember?”

“I’ve also had a lot of nightmares, but I do not look like…” Wu stopped because I gave him a murderous glare. “Well. The development of your health makes me worried. You have never sunk _this_ low, not even when we were in the barrens.”

“Yeah, you are right”, I sighed. “I almost fell asleep during the last run. This has gotten so bad.”

“You… What? When did that happen?” he asked. He placed his gun next to him and dropped his legs out of the bed, so that he was sitting and looking at me. He was so tall that his head almost hit the upper bunk; his hair did touch it a bit.

“Eh, it happened when Is0bel was jacked-in… The humming of the machines got me too relaxed. I startled awake when my head began to sink and hit the glass. No-one really noticed a thing?”

“We thought that you did so deliberately. You have a habit of tapping walls with your forehead while pondering… Or when you become bored. And that situation was somewhat boring”, Wu said.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Wu stretched his neck and shoulders. After that, he stood up.

“We need to find solutions to your issue. Raymond is gone, and I’d rather not see you do the same.”

I puffed.

“Solutions? Do you mean that we go on fixing the Walled City or something like that? That is, if there _is_ any truth in those rumors going around”, I said.

“No, that’s not what I meant. It can be helpful to change one’s surroundings, but that isn’t always enough. Sometimes, it’s not even the correct answer… We may need to peek inside instead of outside”, Wu replied.

“Is this some piece of wisdom from the old man?” I asked. Wu gave me a lopsided sneer. Such shiny white teeth. How much toothpaste and dental floss did he use daily?

“No, I learned this when I went to counseling”, he said. “While you were in prison, I walked as a free SINner. Raymond paid for my treatment and studies, and I learned quite a lot during that time. Now, I’m going to pass some of that knowledge to you – whether you like it or not.”

He had noticed my grimace. Even though we had lived apart for a long time, he still recognized that face.

I had always disliked being told what to do. Wu had spoiled me rotten by letting me do almost all decisions as kids. Considering my inflexible nature and anger issues, it was no surprise that our past home had never been harmonious: Raymond and I had fought constantly.

Wu observed me through his red lenses, his frown wrinkling the space between his eyebrows. Apparently, I didn’t seem too much like a ticking bomb, as he went on:

“So… Anyway, back to the point. Our options are restricted, but we can always start from the basics: that is, _your daily life_. You are the brain out of the two of us, but sometimes, muscles may have something useful to say as well. It’s clear that you have forgotten your body lately, and there’s no doubt that it’s making you weaker against those nightmares.”

Wu sniffed. It wasn’t hard to see how his nostrils grew and shrank. At least from my perspective, that is. Finally, he shook his head as if he had just smelled a rotten egg nearby; he swallowed a cough, in an unsuccessful attempt to hide away the insult.

“First tip: Take a shower more frequently than you do these days. In fact, go take a shower right now. After that, we will discuss your diet, physical exercises, methods for calming yourself–“

That’s when I finally snapped.

“What, are you going to send me to do some yoga with llamas and all that drek, huh?”

Wu came closer to me and pushed me by pressing his palms against my shoulders. He was moving too fast for me to react in time, especially in my tired state. Before I knew it, he was already pushing me out of the door and into the hallway.

“Maybe. But now – the shower”, he stated and made me fall backwards, right into the small bathroom. When I was getting up, he closed the door. I tried to get out, but the door didn’t budge – he was leaning against it on the other side.

Crude curses escaped my lips.

I could hear Gobbet walk past Wu. She asked – and I’m not sure whether she asked in all seriousness – whether Wu had trapped a fragging frenzied drop bear in the bathroom. He told her that this wasn’t anything serious – “ _just a normal quarrel between siblings_ ”. Listening to Gobbet’s voice, it was clear that her eyebrows were slightly raised when she said, very, _very_ slowly: “… _Okayyyy_ …” – as she advanced to the stairs.

That didn’t last forever of course. After a while, my breathing turned into mere laborious puffs. I sat on the cold floor, my back against the door. Someone had showered not too long time ago because my butt turned all wet. A shame that there were no windows in the room. I could’ve jumped right into the waves outside – that’s how immature my wrath was during that time.

“Are you _now_ ready for the shower? There’s a queue forming already, you know. Is0bel and that Russian guy are waiting for their turns”, Wu said.

Okay – so Gobbet had been the person here before me… Unless ghouls took showers. I found it extremely difficult to imagine Gaichu, covered in a foamy pink-tinted soap. Obviously, my mind had special difficulties picturing him naked, as he wore his usual armor in my mind image.

I shook my head and began to discard my clothes.

“Fine. I will take the shower, but you won’t succeed in turning me into a muscle heap”, I stated.

“I didn’t say anything about muscles”, he pointed out.

“You listed _physical exercises_ , as far as I recall.”

“That? You do not need to be worried about your appearances or something. It’s enough that we get you moving a bit outside of runs”, he said. After a pause, he added: “Although muscles _are_ pretty sweet.”

Whose muscles was he seeing before his eyes – I didn’t know. Somehow, I got the feeling that he was nodding his head: _nice_.

I turned the faucet. The water was cold at first, which made me yelp. There wasn’t enough room to move from underneath the icy pour, so I had to stand there, waiting for the temperatures to rise. That made me sour again.

“You know why muscles are particularly sweet, though?” Wu asked.

“Because you can punch people harder?”

“Other suggestions?”

“Because you can do that strange twitching thing with your chest muscles?”

“I should’ve never showed you that trick”, he said. “ _Because_ muscles clean your body out of nasty crap. Stress creates a chemical end product which is harmful to your brain. Your muscles work a bit like your liver, by neutralizing this negative chemical and thus protecting your brain.”

The water had turned mildly warm. I mulled over his words while opening a bottle of soap.

“… Well, that is interesting”, I said. "Hey, I'm going to wash my hair. I might not hear you."

After that, I showered in silence, scrubbing myself thoroughly. The water seemed to steal away more than just the dirt on my body; I didn’t feel as mad as I had been just a moment ago. This, too, wasn’t unusual. I was quick to become angry, but I was also quite quick to calm down, given some time in peace. I dried myself, then wrapped myself in the towel.

Wu let me out.

“Okay. I’ll dress up and… Let’s talk about your ideas after that, yes?”

He gave me another bright smile of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duncan is speaking of kynurenine.


	4. [Racter] Fear of the

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This chapter has been edited 7/28/19**.

Such stressing moments, the time when we were suddenly kidnapped by the HKPF. That day may stay in my mind forever as chaotic flashes, yet I’m not sure what happened and what didn’t happen. The bigger picture is clear, of course — I’m more doubtful of the finer details which I _think_ I can recall.  
  
Even so, some of them make me curious. The questions lead me downstairs and into Racter’s workshop.  
  
“What can you remember of that moment when we were kidnapped?” I ask.  
  
“You were there yourself, my friend. What would my perspective offer?” the rigger asks in turn.  
  
“Your feelings during that time.”  
  
“There isn’t anything special to share”, he states and lights a cigarette. For some fleeting seconds, his eyes flicker due to the light of the bright flame.  
  
His boredom is intimidating. Even so, for some reason, I have a firm feeling that there won’t come any other time to go through this discussion. That might be a strange belief — surely, he won’t suddenly disappear with his heavy mechanical arms and other equipment — but then again, this is the life of a shadowrunner. You are constantly reminded that any day could be your last.  
  
So, I ask him:  
  
“You were afraid, weren’t you?”

Racter tilts his head. After a fleeting moment of surprise, his smile widens, revealing the white rows of his teeth.

“What a peculiar question. You should know the answer without asking, no?” he asks.

“Are you trying to avoid answering me?”  
  
There’s a clear image in my mind — vapor, dark, approaching figures–  
  
–and an unusual expression on Racter’s face when he was coughing right next to me, before everything turned into a state of nothingness.  
  
Perhaps he is about to deny the possibility I’m suggesting, or maybe he is about to counter my question with another question — either way, I stop him by saying:  
  
“Okay, I’ll be direct for once. As you are aware, I’m Awakened. One of my abilities _is_ to sense the feelings of others.”  
  
That is a lie. I may be able to do a bit this-and-that, but supernatural empathetic skills do not belong into my arsenal. I am good at reading facial expressions, body language and how voices sound, though – something which has given me a reputation of having such magical powers.  
  
Racter smokes in silence, possibly calculating whether I’m bluffing or not. Koschei keeps his eerily red sensors directed at me. I suspect that the drone is trying to gather useful data out of me: e.g. any changes in body temperature, micro gestures…  
  
Will Racter notice that I’m lying? I’m more curious than stressed.  
  
Some time passes; then, the rigger lets smoke slip past his lips, in a slow exhale. His right hand slides into a pocket of his jacket.  
  
“You have always insisted that you do not have such skills”, he points out.  
  
“Why should I reveal my cards when I could conceal them?” I ask.  
  
“That, I could understand. Why would you reveal that information to me now, though?” the rigger questions.  
  
“I know that this information won’t spread any further. You wouldn’t simply gain anything by sharing this with others… You can’t prove that I’ve told you this”, I go on explaining.

“Unless I have a habit of recording our discussions”, he replies, staring at me with amused eyes. It’s hard to know whether he is telling the truth or not.

“Even then, you do agree that I possess much more compromising information about you, right?” I say.

“Mm, I did acknowledge the risks when I revealed some personal information to you… It would’ve been foolish of me to go without considering the possibility”, he says. “I trust that you find our alliance useful, though. Surely, you wouldn’t be so unreasonable that you would toss that away, just because of a quest for trivial information? The harmony over the ship would be shaken as well.”

He doesn’t need my response to know my thoughts about that; and he continues:

“Now, let us assume that you have that particular skill. It would render your question pointless. Why would you need any confirmation from me if you already knew that I was afraid?”

Racter shakes his head softly and takes another drag on his cigarette.

“The answer to that question was never my main motive, Racter… I’m more interested in the discussion which would’ve followed. You have mentioned that you aren’t certain what fear feels like; and I’ve seen that trait in practice during our runs. It makes me wonder _why_ – why that certain situation triggered such a reaction. Call it academic curiosity or whatever you wish.”  
  
I pretend to possess 100% certain information to stay consistent with my lie. This is why I prefer to stay honest to longer-lasting contacts: the more you lie, the more careful you have to be in the future. It’s possible that I’m wrong and thus Racter knows that I’m bluffing, but I’m willing to take the risk this time – curiosity gets the better of me at times, and I have a firm feeling that I’m right.

Both the rigger and the drone scan me thoroughly, seeking any crack in the façade.  
  
“I can understand academic curiosity”, Racter says finally. “The same curiosity has pushed me to do some personal research, after all. This particular research, however, had more practical motivations behind it than a mere hunger for information.”

It takes a moment for me to register his indirect confession. When it hits me, I almost lose my poker face.

“Did you find any possible explanations?” I ask without making any commentary on his decision to enter this discussion. Indirect disclosures should be approached indirectly, as well – calmly, without any drama around them.

“After some seeking, I found a plausible theory. Some time ago, a group of scientists observed a woman who suffered from _Urbach-Wiethe disease_ ”, he says. ”It’s a rare sickness which may destroy parts of one’s brain. In the case of this specific woman, the disease had caused her bilateral amygdala damage.”  
  
His words bring memories of our past conversations.  
  
“Both of her amygdalae were affected? You mentioned that the amygdala impacts one’s fight-or-flight reaction, didn’t you?”  
  
“Indeed. The scientists were interested to test how this woman would react in stressful or frightening situations. Say, they took her to a pet shop and showed her dangerous creatures such as snakes and spiders. She didn’t show any fear, and she would’ve touched even lethal species. Frightening movies didn’t stir any stressed reaction either”, he explains.  
  
“Considering the context of our conversation… I assume that there was something which made her scared?” I ask.  
  
“You are correct that there was”, Racter says with a nod. “What made her terrified, then? – The scientists made her inhale _carbon dioxide_. There is a popular misconception that the feeling of suffocation is triggered by a lack of oxygen… When in reality, that sensation is caused by elevated levels of carbon dioxide in one’s system. There might be different neurological systems for analyzing external and internal threats.”  
  
I lean my chin against my hand.  
  
“Oh, I see! You are saying that you aren’t immune to that sort of automatic fear response. I hadn’t ever thought about that before.”  
  
“Neither had I, my friend”, he states. He crushes the cigarette against an ashtray, after which his hand lowers to caress Koschei. He looks thoughtfully at the drone and the hazy reflections on its metallic surface.  
  
“So… I assume that you are going to do something about this discovery?” I ask, bringing his attention back to me.  
  
“Indeed, I am, my friend… Indeed”, he says. “Even though it is good to react to being suffocated, it isn’t useful to become distracted by fearful sensations. To think positively, I could’ve noticed this issue in much worse circumstances. Now, I have a chance to work on countermeasures, in case something similar happens ever again.” He takes a pause. “… Speaking of which, my work won’t finish itself. I assume that you, too, have other matters to attend to..?”  
  
“Oh. Of course”, I say. “… Just make sure that you won’t mess with your brain too much, okay? I’d rather keep discussing with you in the future.”

He chuckles.

“The feeling is mutual, my friend. Oh, and by the way… You, in turn, could pay more attention to your left nostril… It twitches ever so slightly when you aren’t being honest. Such a minuscule movement goes unnoticed most of the time, but there is always a risk that someone will notice… And react less kindly than I did a moment ago”, he says.

“… What?” I ask with a blink. “Does my nostril–“ I blurt before noticing how Racter looks at me – and realizing that I just fell for a dirty trick. “– oh frag.”

I turn around and escape his workshop as quickly as possible – not running away from him but from my own embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sources of inspiration:**   
> 
> 
>   * The woman without fear reactions: [The human amygdala and the induction and experience of fear](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3030206/) 
>   * The same woman (and some others with bilateral amygdala damage) inhaling CO2: [Fear and panic in humans with bilateral amygdala damage](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3739474/). "These results indicate that the amygdala is not required for fear and panic, and make an important distinction between fear triggered by external threats from the environment versus fear triggered internally by CO2."
> 

> 
> **Note: Racter's reaction is nothing but an amateur theory** , based on these studies.  
>   
> Furthermore, there has been research on primary vs. secondary psychopaths and their reactions to fear conditioning: [Psychopaths show enhanced amygdala activation during fear conditioning](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4785144/). The results of the study challenge the typical low-fear explanation.  
>   
> Now, you can go to sing "[ **Fear of the ~~Dark~~ Elevated Levels of ****CO 2" by Iron Maiden**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bePCRKGUwAY).  
> 


	5. [Is0bel] (In)efficiency

”… Tell me that you wrote this to infuriate me”, Is0bel states after glancing through a code snippet. I blink.

“It does the job”, I say. “It takes a chaotic list of numbers and puts them into an ascending order. Wasn’t I supposed to implement that?”

She inhales and breathes out slowly.

“Yes, you were supposed to do that… _After_ you had read the ebook I shared with you. Did you look at it at all?” she asks.

A goofy and tense smile freezes on my face.

To be honest (for once) – _no_ , I _didn’t_ read that tiresome book. I only skimmed through it quickly, and even then I managed to yawn at least a dozen of times. I asked Is0bel to teach me decking so that I could do some cool stuff – pick stunning avatars, steal super secret data, hack pilot-controlled tanks, basically _anything_ actually exciting – but here I am, trying to figure how to put some numbers in order.

Since I was sure that Is0bel wouldn’t let me skip these boring parts, I asked Maximum Law to help me out. Now that I see Is0bel’s face… I understand why Maximum didn’t ask for any price. And why he seemed to be _very_ amused when I left him.

“… Eh, yeah, you are right. I didn’t read the book”, I say while swearing that I’d make the smug brat experience a real BOOM in the near future. I’m already imagining the sweet revenge when Is0bel’s words bring me back to this moment:

“Yeah. That is obvious. You implemented a program which uses _bubble sort_. Out of all possible existing algorithms out there. If you had read the book even a little, you would’ve known that it’s a very inefficient approach to this problem”, she replies.

I did note that the book had some stuff about analyzing the running times of different programs… Something about big O’s and logarithms and cubics and blah blah blah. Terribly exhausting and dulling to the mind.

“Computers will do the work anyway. As you can see, my program gives the results almost instantly. Why should I learn some other way to do this?” I ask.

Is0bel doesn’t exactly look impressed. Without saying anything, she takes a paper and shreds it into small squares; then she writes numbers on them. Finally, she puts the pieces of paper into a box and hands that to me. Before I manage to make any questions, she explains:

“ _Here_. Your next homework. You will shake the box and lift each number up without looking into the box. Continue until _every_ number is out of the box. Check the results. If the order is wrong, you will place the papers back into the box and start again. Do this until you get the correct result. Prove that you did the homework by recording the process.”

It takes some time before her instructions sink in.

“What?” I almost exclaim. “That is incredibly stupid. That could go on for very long!”

“It is stupid. That is the point. This homework is meant to teach you an important lesson. Even if computers are quick, they need resources and time – nothing comes out of thin air. As a result, a program may seem quick with a small set of inputs, but it may perform awfully with a larger number of processable items. A poor program wastes time and resources which could be used for something else... This could get you even killed, depending on the context”, Is0bel says, crossing her arms. “If you want me to teach you, you have to take this seriously. We won’t proceed until you have finished this task.”

I groan but refrain from fighting further.

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll do it. I’ll start right away when I get back downstairs”, I say with a huff; and so I leave her room.

I shake the box while I go down, staring at the object and listening to the sounds coming from it. In my sadistic and somewhat satisfying daydream, Maximum Law is in the box and he screams.


	6. [Racter] Discussions of the Past

After a respite, I decide that it is time to turn a couple of stones once again.

When I go down, the workshop is silent.

Racter is contemplating. He smokes and leans against the metallic railing. He doesn’t resemble someone who wades through daydreams inside his head, but he seems to be lost in his thoughts. His other hand caresses Koschei’s chassis in slow movements.

He notices my entrance, and his attention comes back to his physical surroundings.

“Ah. Hello, my friend. Did you come back with some more questions?” he asks immediately. I can’t help but smile.

“It seems like I’m carrying a bag of infinite questions”, I say. I do not add that talking to him tends to make the bag heavier instead of lighter. “Tell me… When did _you_ become interested in the posthumanistic movement?”

The topic pleases him, I can see.

“I assume that you are wondering whether that happened after my accident, correct?” he asks, and I confirm that by nodding. “That would be a reasonable starting point, but – no, that’s not it. Perhaps I didn’t use the word ‘posthumanism’ before those events, but the seeds had been there for a much longer time… I’ve told you that I come from Nizhny Novgorod, yes?”

“Yes, you did mention that.”

“Isn’t it so that you have never been there?” he asks.

“That is correct.”

“There’s a lot one could say about the city – perhaps I will tell you more about it someday. However, that would derail our discussion”, he says and takes a drag on his cigarette. He releases the smoke slowly before continuing: “… When I was younger, I would sometimes escape home and go explore the city. The industrial area fascinated me; and I always found some routes into the closed areas. I saw how they made cars – they make cars even nowadays around Nizhny – and I also saw the fine art of creating weaponry. The city produced a remarkable amount of military equipment during the EuroWars... Those experiences made me curious of engineering and the science behind the inventions.”

“EuroWars... Wait a second, Racter. Weren’t you supposed to be shivering underneath thin blankets during that time?” I ask. I’m not sure whether he notices that I’m merely teasing him, but he replies:

“That was when our resources were becoming scarce. I had also caught a fever.”

“Oh.”

Racter shrugs.

“War isn’t easy on anyone, civilians included. In any case, your remark brings us to another significant point in my life. Bedridden, I couldn’t do much; so I read a lot, anything I could get a hold of. My mother borrowed books and brought them to me… One of those books introduced me to Russian cosmism and some individuals who have influenced trans- and posthumanism”, he says. I wonder whether I see a spark in his eyes.

I make a mental note to research Russian cosmism.

“Who were those people?” I ask.

“Ah, the book mentioned quite many of them. There was, for instance, _Konstantin Eduardovich Tsiolkovsky_ – a mastermind who had a great impact on astronautics, leading us closer to the point of breaking free from the planet Earth. I’ve always been interested in the space, and it would be a pleasure to explore it someday; just like Tsiolkovsky, I believe that mankind should expand and reach the stars.”

I feel like poking him again.

“Just like the dog you Russians launched into space – Laika, was it?” I ask.

Racter gives me a grin. His teeth catch my eye almost always. It’s hard to believe that such a smile belongs to a chain smoker.

“It is surprising that you’d know of Laika… So much time has passed. People around my age aren’t aware of that either, usually”, he replies. “I know that you are just toying with me – but obviously, our invasion of space would be much different. Technology advances; and in the post-humanistic era, our bodies may handle the challenges of space better than our organic structures.”

“Okay… Were there any other names?” I ask, trying to get some more names for further investigation.

“Oh, plenty. Say, _Alexander K. Gorsky_ saw a future in which mankind has become completely androgynous; one can imagine that it would have radical consequences on one’s self-identity and ideas regarding sexuality”, he explains. After looking at me, he continues: “Why, my friend, it seems like this makes you feel uneasy. This is hardly a mind-blowing concept, compared to many others we have touched thus far.”

“I _suppose_ ”, I say while scratching my neck. “Do continue. Other persons?”

“The list would be long, but here’s one more person – someone who has been a great source of inspiration to many, including aforementioned Tsiolkovsky… _Nikolai Fyodorovich Fyodorov_. According to Fyodorov, the destiny of mankind is to defeat death, through a global cooperation and science… To reach the state of immortality, even to bring the past generations back to life. He called this the Common Task”, Racter goes on. Am I merely imagining things, or is his expression slightly sad? – melancholic? “Unfortunately, it’s unlikely that the dead could be resurrected through methods suggested by Fyodorov. Furthermore, nowadays, we know some ways to travel into the future… But back into the past? That would be far more complicated, perhaps even completely impossible. To mention one issue, we might break the laws of physics by…”

Racter looks at me and stops. His smile seems apologetic. Gone are the subtle hints of melancholy, and I wonder whether they ever were there in the first place.

“Ah, I’m afraid that I got lost into the topic. I’ve noticed that you have done some personal research in the past; therefore, you can surely seek further information yourself if you so desire”, he says.

“I don’t mind”, I reply. “That was actually quite interesting.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, my friend – very pleased”, he says. He looks at the time. “It’s delightful to discuss with you, but both you and I have our share of the Common Task to do, yes?”

I blink, but then I recall his earlier words and catch the – possible – joke.

“Yes, of course. May your work go smoothly”, I say and leave him be. As I go up the stairs, I feel how the weight of my invisible bag has increased once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although writing is fun, it can get pretty exhausting to write down every detail which character simulations say. E.g. Vladimir Ivanovich Vernadsky and Racter's experiences about the Nizhny Novgorod Metro didn't get here. As usual, corrections are welcome.


	7. [Racter] Transmissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A _really_ quick unpolished chapter. Once again, a lot of potential content never got here; however, I have so little energy and, more than that, _patience_ , to sit still.

”Hi! How are things going down there?” I ask loudly as I go downstairs. My voice echoes as usual, just like the sounds of my steps against the metallic stairway. “Do you need any…”

_… Help_?

I stop my sentence because Racter is up and seems to be preparing a cup of tea for himself. One wouldn’t notice anything strange about him if he didn’t wear sunglasses – well, maybe he is slower with his movements, but his hands appear rather determined instead of fumbling. I halt and stare at him for a moment.

“Ah, my friend”, he says and turns his head into my direction. “Would you like to have some tea, perhaps?”

“… I could take a cup, in fact”, I reply after a moment of silence. To be honest, no, I’m not in the mood for tea; I’m simply interested in watching him select a teabag, take a cup and pour hot water into it–

– _hot_ water. My thoughts stop at that adjective. _Maybe_ my plan isn’t so wise after all; _maybe_ I’m just encouraging this fascinating but foolishly daring man into injuring himself even further–

Before I manage to cancel my request, Racter is already tilting the electric kettle. He has a smug smile spread over his face: the smile which makes him seem calm and self-assured and very much pleased. Depending on the context, that same smile may seem either charming or frustrating – sometimes both at the same time.

He lifts the filled cup and gives it to me – once again, slowly but still surprisingly smoothly. I take it and thank him.

“For someone who has been blind for just a day and 5 hours or so… You are functioning quite well”, I say, frowning. Then I notice Koschei who is sitting still on a big box while staring at us. “… Let me guess. Are you using Koschei’s sensors or something like that?”

“Your theory is correct”, he says with a nod. “Ambrose doesn’t have suitable components for restoring my eyes yet, so Koschei has assisted me with moving.”

Ambrose _did_ have some replacement material, but they didn’t fulfill Racter’s requirements. There were some technical matters, at least; moreover, he wanted to keep the color of his eyes the same. It’s a wonder whether Racter would’ve accepted some other color if those components had pleased him otherwise.

 “My movements aren’t nearly as graceful as Gaichu’s, as you can see. I can't take on runs in my current state; there are also some other activities which I cannot do. I am, however, content. This is much better than to be rendered completely passive. I also consider this excellent practice for me and Koschei.”

I drink some tea while staring at the bizarre duo.

“So… Koschei sends you data about your shared surroundings. How does that exactly work?” I ask finally.

“It’s an enthralling topic, especially when you dive deeper into detail. I’m afraid that you do not possess enough technical knowledge to appreciate more elaborate descriptions.”

Clearly, his words are referring to our past discussions. Sometimes, he may become carried away; and then he goes on explaining intricate designs and concepts to me – until he notices that I’m utterly lost. He has said that my presence is useful for his brainstorming sessions, but he does apologize for potentially boring me nevertheless: “ _I’m a solitary creature, my friend… As a result, I may sometimes forget how normal everyday interaction flows._ ”

“Do you think that you can give me some sort of an idea even so?” I ask.

“I can try, I suppose. First of all, Koschei has many useful sensors implanted into his system. For instance, he may use echoes to navigate around; he can also pinpoint sources of electricity and warmth. Some drones are equipped with the ability to see like we do, but I haven’t included that into his system… Other approaches are lighter to process and provide more than enough data. Besides, algorithms trying to mimic human vision tend to be vulnerable against basic exploitation. Say, you do not need anything but a wig and makeup to confuse some algorithms meant for facial recognition…” he goes on, but then he stops himself from going much deeper.

He uses the pause to drink his tea. Then he continues:

“Koschei and I share a two-sided connection. Both of us can transmit information to each other, but I preserve the power to signal commands. Since our connection is wireless, I try my best to ensure security and reliability of it. Anyway: Koschei doesn’t give me raw data. Instead of that, he sends me information which is based on the data. He may estimate probabilities of a successful hit, to mention an example. He may send me sensations… I can _feel_ his surroundings, in a way; the three-dimensional locations of different objects, with Koschei being at the center of it all.”

“… Ah, I see. Or, I at least _think_ that I understand… Koschei has been on the top of that box so that he could sense the objects on your table”, I say.

“You got the gist of the idea quickly, my friend”, Racter replies. “Indeed, there is a reason why he is located like that. I admit – even though I’ve been connected to Koschei for a long time, I haven’t prepared for this kind of a scenario… A scenario in which I need to move myself, using only his perspective. It can be challenging to rely solely on an external perspective. Koschei needs to stay still, as well… I’d lose the track of my surroundings otherwise.”

Now that he mentions it, Koschei has been surprisingly calm all this time.

“That’s an intriguing mind-image”, I say. “… That reminds me of video games, in a way: how some characters are moved in their digital surroundings. I realize that your situation is different, though… Koschei isn’t controlling you, after all; he is only giving you his point of view.”

“Yes, you are on the right tracks”, he says. He pours himself some more water and lifts the cup. The rising steam blurs the lenses of his sunglasses. “I’m afraid that I cannot enlighten you thoroughly of these different sensations. Words can only do so much, in the end.”

“Well, maybe I’ll experience something like that in that future of yours”, I say lightly, joking. I shouldn’t have done that, as Racter’s head tilted a bit at that.

“As long as our cooperation continues – I can promise to introduce you to a world filled with wonder. Just imagine all the things I could show you…”

_All the things I could **do** **to** you_, I hear; echoes of his past words. I back away, closer to the staircase.

“Who knows, maybe you will, someday. _Anyway_ … I should really go, so…”

“Very well, my friend. May you have a good day”, he says, and I take the opportunity to escape his workshop once again.


	8. [Racter] Lessons

“кощей убила м—“

“убил”, I correct and wag my finger at you.

“ _Убил_ мышь”, you say. After that, you speak in a weary Cantonese: “This business with aspects is certainly draining my cognitive resources. I need to pay attention to using the correct gendering, too... I’ll probably see nightmares about the Russian grammar tonight.”

Although I’ve never taught Russian to anyone else before you, I’m aware that these topics tend to be bugbears to many learners.

“Now, now, my friend. You decided to study Russian voluntarily. Surely, you would be glad to have nightmares about the Russian language instead of Qian Ya”, I remark.

“To tell you the truth... I’m not so sure about that.”

If I were in the company of someone else, I’d consider the statement a mere exaggeration; a manifestation of a growing frustration. You may joke sometimes, but your current expression doesn’t give a humorous vibe.

“Would you like to tell me why?” I ask and take a drag on a cigarette. You do not answer right away. Hesitation, perhaps, or maybe you do not know the answer either—

—ah, you frown. The latter it is, then.

“I suppose that being scared feels less suffocating than boredom”, you say. Before I manage to form a reply, you add quickly: "I do _not_ mean to say that Russian is boring, though! I wouldn't ask you to teach me that otherwise... Maybe I'm just too tired to focus currently, and it makes me even more frustrated with challenges..?"  
  
"Oh, I see. In any case, you say that you'd prefer to be frightened than bored?" I ask.  
  
“You probably think that it’s an odd preference, but that is how it is...”

“It is an unusual thing to say, but I believe that I understand...”

 

* * *

 

_The boy glances around his surroundings. Such pompous decorations. So many details, yet he can’t see dust anywhere. This man—his therapist—thrives and lives like a miniature czar, by selling miracle cures and false hope._

_The boy doesn’t feel much about that, nor about the fact that his own mother is one of those fools throwing her money at the therapist. At the end of the day, the boy may mock the therapist for his decoration sense all he likes—but he acknowledges that the man makes much more sense than his mother ever does._

_“There is no cure for you, my boy”, the therapist says when the boy meets him for the first time. He tells the boy that they can make a mutually beneficial arrangement, however, involving overpriced pills made out of sugar._

_Everything goes well until the boy gets caught doing something he shouldn’t do. The concerned mother brings the boy back to the therapist. Perhaps the medication has lost its edge?_

_The therapist’s office has become even more ludicrous. When the boy lies on a plushy coach, he stares at a painting on the ceiling. Golden stars, glittering right above him._

_“We made a deal”, the therapist scolds him. “I thought that you would be a bright lad. Am I mistaken? Am I? Hmmph. We will put the sugar pills into a different container. We will also have a couple of sessions together—for a price, of course. This is no charity. I will teach you how to hide your unpleasant qualities.”_

_The man glances at his silver wrist clock._

_“Tell me, boy. Why did you steal that car? You went really fast; and it’s needless to say that you do not have a driver’s license. You could’ve killed somebody. You could’ve killed also yourself.”_

_The boy looks at the therapist._

_Then he tells the man what had really happened._

_The boy hadn't stolen the car. He had been kidnapped. The kidnapper—a woman who had covered her face with a red scarf—had assumed that such a young child wouldn’t know how to drive. She had left the boy alone in the car for a moment, probably to make a call for demanding ransoms. Well, of course the boy had used the opportunity and had started the car. Unfortunately, he is too small for driving a car well, and that’s why he had gone so fast._

_The therapist listens to the story in silence._

_“A witness saw how you got into the car”, he says. “There was no woman. Just you. No, no, no. Don’t try to explain your way out of this. We will need to start with controlling your clear case of pathological lying. You can lie all you want—I do not care—but you need to do it well, in a believable manner. Now. Tell me. Why did you steal the car?”_

_The boy stares at the stars and tells the man the real reason._  
  
_“I have told you that your case is incurable”, the therapist replies. “Your condition... It comes with this void. A continuous state of boredom. You can try to fill it, but trust me when I say that you will never be truly satisfied, not at least for long. Give up on such a fruitless quest. Learn to accept your fate.”_

 

* * *

“... Yes, I believe I do. What if we take a pause and continue later with the aspects? That might lower the risks of such nightmares, and sleeping might help your brain with forming new connections. Who knows, you might find these topics easier tomorrow”, I suggest.

“That would be fantastic. I do not keep my hopes up about that, though. Anyway—спокойной ночи, Racter... And Koschei.”

You leave the workshop. I blow out smoke, wondering what it would be like to feel thrill out of normal everyday things; to feel excitement which lasts for a longer time than just for a fleeting moment, soon to be forgotten.

Koschei pushes his head against my legs. I lower my hand to caress his chassis.

However, that constant lingering boredom—it's nothing but a small price for all these wonderful advantages.

And I've never been one to passively accept my fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether I'd publish this chapter here. However, since it seems like AO3 signaled some people that this story collection got an update (just because I had saved a draft) – here's the text.


	9. [Gaichu & Racter] Connections

Racter’s workshop is silent. Even though I didn’t come down to see him, I stare at the strange sight: the still silhouettes of his tools and displays, barely visible due to the lack of light. Obviously, the rigger can and does leave his workshop every now and then—but somehow, this is the only time I’ve observed the place without his presence.

Finally, I proceed with my original plan. I turn around and walk towards Gaichu’s corner. Hopefully, at least he is present...

I do not advance very far before I learn that he is indeed there—and that he has company.

Racter sits on the floor in front of Gaichu. The samurai is explaining something to the rigger who, in turn, leans his right arm over Koschei’s back. I blink when Gaichu bursts into laughter; and my bafflement only grows because Racter joins in, chuckling and slapping his lap with a gloved hand.

Now that I’m closer, I see chopsticks in Racter’s hold.

“Ah, it seems like you are getting even more guests tonight, Gaichu. As your quarters are rather small, I could step aside... But before I go, I’d like to thank you for the entertaining story”, the rigger says after glancing at me. He places the chopsticks into Gaichu’s box of mementos; then, he stands up, stretches his arms and legs—legs which make loud metallic sounds against the floor because he isn’t wearing his shoes—and walks past me with Koschei, giving me his usual smile.

I sit down onto the floor, taking Racter’s former place.

“I didn’t know that you two interact outside of runs”, I say. I do not bother hiding away my puzzlement. “You have been telling him about your past?”

“Indeed, I have. I just explained the reason why I’ve kept the chopsticks. He was curious about them.”

“I noticed”, I reply. “Now, you aren’t obliged to answer, and I’m not jealous over you sharing your past with someone else besides me—but has Racter been interested in other parts of your memories?”

“Yes, he has asked several questions thus far.”

That is... Peculiar. Even though I can’t read minds—Racter’s thoughts are particularly tricky to imitate—I’d imagine that he wouldn’t be intrigued by mementos. As far as I’ve understood, he isn’t able to look at objects and living beings from an emotional perspective: they are either useful or useless. I might need to discuss with him later, but, back to this current conversation:

“It all started when Koschei barged into my room and knocked the box of mementos upside-down. Racter came over here soon afterwards... He apologized and explained that the drone had been running after an escaped screw... An automatic reflex, triggered by anything small which moves, he said”, Gaichu continued. “He helped me gather the mementos back into the box. He has visited me every now and then ever since that accident.”

It’s true that Koschei is quick to kill rodents—except Madness and Folly—and tiny bugs. I’ve witnessed that tendency many a time myself. Still, though... I recall how Racter lured me into asking him to join our crew; maybe even this “accident” was a fruit of intentional planning.

“I see”, I say with a light tone. “Coincidences are... Intriguing at times.” Racter’s feet come to my mind. “Now I know that he is aware of your mementos. How much do you know about him, though? I ask to ensure that I won’t accidentally spill any personal secrets...”

“I know that he is highly cybered. He didn’t need to tell me that, though... I could hear it—the artificial parts moving underneath his clothing. Those parts also give him a certain kind of a scent”, Gaichu says. He adds with a wry grin, “... He may cover himself with clothes and a thick smell of smoke, but that doesn’t fool my current senses.”

“Now that you mention it, it makes sense that you would know about that”, I reply with a nod. “He also knows that you know, it would seem.”

“Yes, I’ve been open about that. That has resulted in many interesting conversations, since our experiences touch similar themes here and there.”

“Such as?”

“Well... The nature of being a human; social discrimination; the fact that both he and I have managed to maintain our personalities despite the changes. I also find it interesting that he considers his overall state an advantage instead of a weakness. Haven’t I come to a similar conclusion about my current existence as a ghoul, after all?”

“ _Overall_ state?”

“His cybernetic parts and psychopathy”, Gaichu simply explains. I stare at him in silence for a moment, a tense and still smile over my face.

“Just... How much has he told you, exactly?” I ask finally.

“He might have kept his psychopathy a secret, but I heard you two discussing the topic. Although I wish to respect the privacy of others whenever that is possible, hearing is something one can’t unfortunately control.”

“... Okay, now I’m forced to ask: you really do not mind his presence, knowing that about him? This is important information, as teamwork requires that members feel comfortable enough around each other.”

“I assume that you made similar questions to others when I joined the team, correct?” Gaichu asks. Before I manage to answer, he says, “Now, you needn’t take that as an accusation. It’s only good that you discussed with others. I wouldn’t want to be part of a team which could turn against me anytime, just because members have been forced to conceal their feelings.“

He takes a pause, contemplating.

“Many would assume that because I’m a ghoul, I wouldn’t have any standards. Thus, my respect for you grew once again. To answer your question... Some time ago, you criticized Hagakure. I have reflected on your words after that discussion. You may form your opinions for yourself, but do know that Hagakure doesn’t only teach one to act despite one’s inborn fear of death; it also teaches compassion. Instead of seeking differences which one could loathe, one should try to find connections with others...”

He grins wryly.

“When I was younger, this compassion was reserved for only so-called superior species. We were taught to concentrate on the differences between us and other metahuman types—and when there weren’t enough actual differences, they created more out of thin air. In hindsight, I feel like a great fool for believing in those lies back then”, he says.

“... I wouldn’t call you a fool, really. You were surrounded by those messages every single day. Almost anyone could be manipulated into believing those claims, given the right circumstances”, I say.

“You are kind, but I do not wish to run away from my responsibilities. Discrimination and mass-murder cause misery regardless of one’s self-awareness”, he states firmly, signaling that I shouldn’t argue against that. “In any case, I’ve practiced compassion lately, and it has helped me with unlearning my past educations. I’ve sought to find connections between me and Racter, too; and I’ve already discovered a good number of them.”

“Hmm. It’s true that you mentioned quite many connecting factors”, I say thoughtfully. “... However... I do not wish to change your ideas about him, but—how much do you know about psychopathic traits? When Racter says that he has gotten high scores on professional assessments, he also confesses that he may struggle with pathological lying and the like.”

Gaichu seems somewhat amused.

“Yamamoto Jinemon said that a useless person is someone who doesn’t make seven lies within one hundred yards. I am not bothered by the possibility of lying, as long as those lies do not cross certain lines. Say, the Whampoan Elders promised to honor our contract; something which they didn’t do in the end. That’s an example of lying which goes too far. If Racter has lied, he hasn’t at least caused any harm to me or other team members. That, I can tolerate.”

“Very well”, I say. “I’ll believe in your word. Do know that you can talk to me if you ever wish to discuss him or some other member. Perhaps we could switch the topic for now? Say—would you be alright with going through one of your mementos, or are you tired of that after your conversation with Racter?”

“No, that’s okay. Go ahead and pick some item.”

I dip my hand into his box and lift a random object.

Much to my surprise, I hold a purple plush octopus in my grasp.

“His name is Tako-kun, and _no_ , I am not embarrassed—“ Gaichu starts, and I can hear from his voice that he has just recently gone through the same exact conversation... With one certain Russian rigger.

Unfortunately, the mind-image breaks me into laughter—and the rest of our meeting goes around me apologizing profusely.


	10. [Is0bel] Forming Plans

**_Click clack click clack_** —

Is0bel is typing with a keyboard so loudly that it almost surpasses the noise coming from Racter’s workshop. Once again, I think how there are two types of people: those who prefer silent keyboards and those who like it when their typing sounds like a hammer whacking nails into a metallic wall. Someone might guess which type I am.

“Are you in the middle of something urgent?” I yell. The rapid click-clacking halts. She glances at me with eyes which do not really pay full attention to me, and then she looks back at her display. It’s obvious that I’ve broken her moment of immersion. She sighs.

“It depends. What do have in mind?” she asks.

“Our next run. I’d like to know your plans in advance”, I tell her. Her display goes dark, and she steps closer to me.

“Usually, you do not ask my plans this early. Why is this run so interesting?”

“Well, this run is sort of different from what I’m used to. Normally, we’d try to find a nice spot for you to jack-in in peace. Mr. Johnson says that this time, doing so is impossible”, I explain. Is0bel stretches her fingers.

“Getting the data is easy, really”, she says.

“Honestly? What are you going to do—try to crack into their internal system from the outside or something?”

“Aggressive technical attacks aren’t usually the best way to approach these matters. I say that we start by social engineering... You could be suitable for the task. We could dress you up as a pizza delivery person and pile a huge tower of boxes on your arms...”

“What kind of pizza?” Gobbet exclaims from her room. Her head pokes out of the doorway; Madness and Folly stand on her head, side by side.

“Gobbet, this is not a time for...” Is0bel starts.

“Izz, that is a question of an utmost importance!” Gobbet says while wagging her finger at the decker. Is0bel sighs.

“Pepperoni. Now, go back to your room—you aren’t even coming along to this run”, she commands. Gobbet shrugs and obliges; and Is0bel continues explaining her plan:

“The guards of the place order pizza every Thursday, at a same time of the day. We knock out the real pizza deliverer and take their uniform and pizza boxes. That shouldn’t pose a big problem.”

“Unless they are a big, muscular and very much pissed-off street samurai”, I reply. When Is0bel rises her eyebrow, I add: “Never mind. I just have bad experiences... Do continue.”

“Our pizza deliverer has a modified credstick. They need to get close to any suitable device in the internal network and connect the credstick to it.”

“Wow. Are you saying that the credstick sucks the data, just like that?” I ask, puzzled.

“No, we leave the credstick there. It includes a program which becomes automatically installed on the target device.”

“Okay... What does the program do?”

“I’m getting to that. I’ve done some research on the laboratory, and it seems like they have a separate older system for loudspeakers. I believe that I’ll manage to connect myself to that without entering the building. Well, my simple program makes the device listen to sounds—so high sounds that a normal person won’t be able to hear them...”

“What if the device doesn’t have a microphone?” I cut in.

“That poses no issue, as the credstick includes one”, she says.

“Oh, I see.”

“Where was I... Oh, right: The program translates the sounds into instructions, and it gives me answers by making similar sounds which loudspeakers transmit to me. And before you ask—you seem like you are about to do so—both loudspeakers and microphones have a similar logic behind their functionalities. A microphone captures changes in sound pressure and converts them into electrical signals; a loudspeaker does the opposite. It’s possible to reprogram a loudspeaker to act as a microphone and vice versa.”

“Really?” I ask. “That’s rather interesting, and the same goes for the fact that you use sounds to signal commands.”

She shrugs.

“Sounds aren’t definitely the only way to tackle similar tasks, but I digress. It’s good that you find this interesting, I suppose. In practice, though, you may find the procedure a bit tiresome. Sounds are a slow way to transmit data, so we will need the whole night for that purpose.”

“You could borrow my card games and play them while you wait”, Gobbet suggests from her room.

“We will consider that”, I reply before Is0bel manages to say anything. Then, I turn back to Is0bel. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll inform Duncan and Gaichu about it and see whether they have something to add to it... But before that, I’ll need to solve one big mystery...”

Is0bel looks at me, waiting for me to continue.

“... And that’s what kinds of card games we are going to play during that long and boring night. Gobbet, are you ready to play?”

Sounds may be a slow way to transmit data between devices, but Gobbet’s voice reaches my ears very quickly:

“You bet I am—especially if the winner gets free pizza!”


	11. [Racter] Connections – 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I planned to take a break from AO3 and publish stories through my blogger instead; however, I received an email from a person who requested me to put the texts over here, too, so – here we go again (a message for that person: thank you for the interest.)

After my last conversation with Gaichu, I promised to myself that I’d bring certain themes up with Racter at some point. Perhaps when Gaichu isn’t around—it feels more comfortable to talk when I know that only Racter can hear me.  
  
Such a time comes eventually. The samurai is away from his dim corner, and Racter happens to have time for a little chat. He needs a cigarette, and he can’t smoke while proceeding with his current tasks.  
  
“You ask me why I’m interested in Gaichu’s mementos?” he repeats my question, signaling that he expects me to explain my reasons first.  
  
“Well, to be honest—you do not strike me as the type to be curious of such stuff. Mementos tend to revolve around emotional value; and, furthermore, you have stated your preference for focusing on the future instead of the past”, I say. “That’s why I’m puzzled.”  
  
He nods.  
  
“Your thoughts are on the mark, my friend, but you appear to be too fixated on them to consider other possibilities. To mention one motivating factor, I naturally wish to know my neighbor better. Those mementos give me an idea about him as an individual. Surely, there’s nothing strange about such a wish”, he replies.  
  
“No, not at all. What do you think of him?”  
  
“He is competent, and it’s fascinating to speak with a sane member of the _homo sapiens wichtusare_. You do not get such opportunities everyday...” he starts, but after seeing my expression, he chuckles. “Your glare gives me an impression that you think that I’d perform a vivisection on him...”  
  
A very accurate statement. I haven’t forgotten his words about performing such examinations as a kid, when we were on a run with others. Thank God that others missed his comment. I sincerely wonder why he risks himself in such a manner—does he get the kicks out of letting his less normal traits take a peek outside of his facade?  
  
“... While I admit that it would be an intriguing biological study*, you needn’t be concerned that I’d harm him. As I’ve told you, I consider myself prosocial outside of runs. It would also be irrational of me to attack a team member. No, currently, I’m more interested in observing him as he continues with his everyday life—a bit like a birdwatcher admiring an individual of a rare species.”  
  
To be honest, I think that he looks at everyone in that way. Of course, it may be fair to say that I observe him in a similar manner, too, in turn, as he is quite an— _frag_ , I just realized that his peculiar feet may be yet another personal joke.  
  
“Okay. I’ll take your word about that”, I say, swallowing my words before I accidentally state “ _an odd bird_ ” aloud. “You do have an opinion about his personality, though, right? None of your points touches that.”  
  
“Ah. Gaichu is diligent, determined and open-minded. He has an excellent sense of humor. I could naturally list more positive qualities, but those are some examples. We have had many pleasant conversations thus far”, he says with his usual smile and cold eyes.  
  
“So you can’t or do not want to state any negative traits?” I ask.  
  
Racter thinks over my question while caressing Koschei’s chassis. Then, he says:  
  
“He can be quite melancholic. He is also in the process of accepting his current life—as a result, he may cling a bit too much to his past. That may change, though, given enough time. So, in brief—I do not have much to say.”  
  
“Fair enough. If I may go back to the mementos—you do not have any other reasons behind your interest?”  
  
“Well, I’m of course curious about different cultures. Gaichu’s possessions give an easy route for approaching such topics, in a natural manner. Sometimes, we may become blind to our own cultures; we assume that some matters are the same everywhere and thus not worth mentioning. When Gaichu describes his memories, he may include details which could become lost otherwise”, Racter explains.  
  
Then, he gives me a different kind of a smile—the kind which always makes me pay closer attention to his next words.  
  
“Speaking of details... I do sometimes wonder whether his memories are completely truthful”, he adds.  
  
“Are you insinuating that he is lying?” I ask, baffled. He waves his hand at me.  
  
“Do not jump into hasty conclusions, my friend! I do not suggest that he is making up stories to keep us entertained. I trust that he believes his words himself. The question is whether he recalls those events correctly...”  
  
“Because of his transformation? Do you think that it could have affected his brain somehow?”  
  
“Now, now—let me finish the thought, yes? You form an intriguing question, but that is not what I’m after. You see, every single time a person recalls a memory, they will most likely modify it somehow... Add details which never existed or happened; erase some which were there. Our friend Gaichu loops through his memories so frequently that I wonder whether that has changed them. Unlike Is0bel, he doesn’t have a safe copy of them in an external storage”, he explains. “In a sense, his treasure chest is corrupting its real meaning every single time he browses through it.”  
  
“Wait, are you serious about that?” I ask, eyebrows high; then, I sigh. “Oh, never mind. Of course you are. Shouldn’t we say something to him instead of encouraging him to recall those memories, then?”  
  
Racter shrugs, taking a drag on his cigarette. He releases the smoke slowly.  
  
“Why should we?” he asks. “He is satisfied as he is, and he cannot pinpoint false pieces of memories. We would only make him doubt all of his memories, even the correct ones. Besides, it’s likely that he can remember the main points quite well—assuming that his metamorphosis hasn’t affected his memories, as you suggested. Even though it is possible to destroy memories and fabricate completely false scenarios inside one’s head, both would require much more than simply recalling memories in a normal manner.”  
  
“... Is this why you do not like to talk about your past?” I ask.  
  
“Oh, no. I simply think that it’s a useless activity for the most part. The present and the future are much more productive to think about”, he replies. He looks at me for a moment in silence. “Your face is unusually pale, my friend. Are you feeling unwell?”  
  
“A bit, but it will pass... The air is just so thick in your workshop, I’m afraid. I should go outside, so if I may...”  
  
Racter nods.  
  
“The nightly air should be rather refreshing. May you have a pleasant stroll.”  
  
“And may you have a calm night”, I say before leaving.  
  
I lied. I do not feel weak because of the air.  
  
Racter may not feel sad about these kinds of topics, but I do: Gaichu’s most treasured things—lost in time; and not only them but also the reliability of my own memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [AmberJeans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberJeans/pseuds/AmberJeans) touches a similar topic in the fic ["In The Place Between Darkness and Light"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17835233) – you are recommended to give it a shot!


	12. [Racter] Appearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: a lack of clothing ahead, but the scene isn't sexual.

The surface is smooth and slightly cool under my fingertips. The metal doesn’t reflect light like a mirror; even so, I can see how the color of my fingers spreads over the metal when my hand is close enough.  
  
I look up at the skin above. The contrast is striking: where the steel is sleek and looks almost untouched, the flesh is scarred. Finally, my eyes meet Racter’s.  
  
“That is the shell: nothing more, nothing less”, he comments.  
  
At first, I’m not certain whether he refers to the metallic parts or his overall body – but before I manage to say anything, he continues:  
  
“The parts underneath the surface would be much more exciting to explore. Perhaps I’ll let you see the mechanisms under there someday; as for now, do forgive me for leaving that for another time.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t mind... I don’t mind at all. This is a whole new experience for me as it is; as such, I’m not bored in the slightest”, I reply. “You may say that it’s nothing but a shell, but you have put a lot of thought into the design… Just like you have done with Koschei.”  
  
The drone has been circling us the whole time. I don’t need to look at him to know that: his feet click-and-clack against the floor, giving me an idea of his approximate location. It’s clear that he wants me to be aware of his presence, so that I’d think twice before making a wrong move…  
  
The thought amuses me. Honestly? Racter could just crush me between his metallic thighs right now if he wanted to eliminate me. A murderous drone would be an overkill.  
  
Racter lets out a thoughtful hum.  
  
“Although I prioritize functionalities over aesthetics, I confess that the latter can be enjoyable. There are also times when the two merge. Do you remember the documentary we watched a couple of days ago?” he asks.  
  
“Yes, we did watch one…” I say slowly. “… Oh... I see. You are thinking about the poison dart frogs, aren’t you?”  
  
“Indeed, my friend, I am. Just like their example shows, appearances can serve an important purpose. If they were colored like other frogs, there would be no prior warnings of their toxicity; and predators would harm and kill them, only to die later as well”, he replies. “In a similar vein, Koschei’s appearances are meant to be intimidating. It’s useful in many scenarios, as you have most likely already noticed. Now, the shell of my cybernetic parts, in turn...”  
  
He takes a drag on his cigarette.  
  
“… They are more like a butterfly trying to blend into its surroundings. Sure, my legs do not seem biological when I take off my clothes – but when I have my clothes on, the shell gives my body a  humanoid shape.”  
  
“Well, you may be satisfied to know that you managed to fool me as well. I was surprised when you told me of your cyberware”, I tell him while I trace his toes with my fingertips.  
  
“I may take that as a compliment because you are a highly observant individual”, he says. “You are tickling me, by the way.”  
  
“Oh, sorry–“ I blurt and let go off his toes – but after a very short and fleeting moment, I burst into a laughter.  
  
“My friend..?” he asks.  
  
“It’s just… Well, for one thing, I didn’t take you as someone who could be tickled; and I didn’t know that you can feel down here…”  
  
“I have installed sensors for recording various inputs. Now, my friend. I warn you that if you continue like that, I cannot guarantee your safety… My toes may curl and snap all of a sudden, and the force is equal to a crocodile’s bite. You might wish to keep your hands intact.”  
  
I raise my hands, palms facing him. I laugh even still.  
  
“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist”, I say, “… I would really love to see you crush a can of soda with those toes, though. That must be very impressive.”  
  
Racter stares at me with his cold eyes and an unnervingly serious face. After some time filled with tense silence, the smile freezes over my lips. Then... he chuckles.  
  
“Sure, why not. Bring me a can and I’ll show you.”

* * *

Later, Is0bel comes to the entrance room of the ship to throw away unusable wires. She does so, but a peculiar sight catches her eye.  
  
“Uhm, Seattle...” she turns to look at me.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“… Why is the trash bin filled with torn-up soda cans?”


	13. [Racter & Koschei] Trust

Something isn’t right.  
  
I stop and stand still. A quick glance at Racter’s workshop reveals that he isn’t there; in fact, the whole place is devoid of motion. Another glance, and I’m certain that there is no-one over Gaichu’s corner as well. It’s so silent that I can hear my breathing.  
  
Where did that sound come from just a moment ago, then?  
  
I’m about to proceed going down the stairs when I hear that same sound again… Only this time, I realize that the source is right _below_ me. I jump and hit the floor with a loud clang; which, in turn, makes the creature more animated as well. The air is filled with metallic screeches which pierce my ears when I turn around and _look_.  
  
Red dots glow in the dark. _Koschei_. The drone is climbing on the opposite side of the stairs. His feet sneak through the empty gaps between the steps, keeping him from falling down. Now, those feet move quickly: the drone goes left, climbs over the railing and drops himself on the steps of the stairway. After that, he lowers his back like a cat ready to jump; and he reveals the sharp blades of his frontal limbs. He doesn’t, however, attack me right away; and thus we get locked into a tense stillness.  
  
Fortunately, this doesn’t last long: someone opens the lid and enters the basement. The smell of soykaf floats in the air.  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a run, my friend?” Racter asks. Koschei’s posture relaxes, and he comes down into the workshop with the rigger. Racter stops to stand in front of me, taking a sip from his mug.  
  
“Yeah… The run got canceled. Mr. Johnson called us and said that the target won’t be at the restaurant tonight. We may try again next week”, I explain. “In any case, I thought to visit you instead.”  
  
“And were surprised by Koschei’s practice session?” Racter asks, smiling. “I didn’t expect anyone to visit the workshop tonight, so I left Koschei alone for a moment.”  
  
His right hand caresses the chassis of the drone. Koschei appears more relaxed, but he keeps staring at me with his unblinking red sensors.  
  
“Yes, you can say that I was”, I reply, then sigh. “I must be naive. To be honest, after all this time, I genuinely thought that Koschei would trust me… But it seems like he has acted calmer only because of your controlling presence.”  
  
I do not add that I’m particularly disappointed because Koschei represents Racter’s id. Doesn’t that mean that Koschei’s behavior reveals Racter’s feelings about me, too, after all?  
  
Racter tilts his head.  
  
“Oh? From my point of view, he was being unusually hospitable”, he says.  
  
“Frankly, that didn’t seem ‘unusually hospitable’ from _my_ point of view.”  
  
“That's because you do not possess enough data to analyze his average behavior. Moreover, you need to remember that he doesn’t have a direct access into your mind… As a result, he needs to analyze your demeanor to conclude whether you are threat or not”, Racter replies. “According to Koschei’s recordings, you seemed to be ready to attack him a moment ago.”  
  
“That’s because I didn’t know that it was him”, I point out. “And when I recognized him, he was already showing his arsenal.”  
  
“Well, as I just said, Koschei cannot read your thoughts. He saw that you were behaving in an aggressive manner, and he prepared to protect himself. A perfectly reasonable reaction, I’d say”, Racter says while wagging his finger at me. “Now, why was this recent event special? – He didn’t assault you right away. He hesitated so that he could confirm your intentions… And thus lost valuable time which could've been used for combat.”  
  
I consider his words, frowning. If I couldn’t talk with Duncan and he seemed threatening, would I act similarly? Probably. Although I care about him – and I care about him very much – I would defend myself if he attacked me.  
  
“Very well”, I say. “I get your point. You said that this kind of behavior is unusual for Koschei… How many other individuals would get similar treatment?”  
  
The rigger takes a sip from his mug, emptying it from its contents. He places the mug on a desk.  
  
“One”, he says finally. “There is one individual who is the same as you in this regard.”  
  
When he looks at me, his smile seems a bit amused but also mysterious, making me curious; however, before I manage to make any further questions, he says:  
  
“Now that I’ve finished the soykaf, I request you to leave me. I didn’t allocate time for a chat because of the canceled run. I have important tasks which require my attention. So, my friend…”  
  
“You would like to wish me a peaceful night”, I almost sigh.  
  
“Ah, we are on the same wavelength once again. You are indeed correct.”  
  
Before I go, I glance at Koschei; and see how he stares at me, in turn. I can’t help but wonder who that other person could be. Do I even know them? I go up the stairs, head filled with different possibilities.  
  
Then, the answer hits me, making me stop in the entrance room. All of a sudden, I do not feel disappointed anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The themes of this snippet were supposed to be very different, but characters went on changing the whole scenario. E.g. [VioletAmet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletAmet/pseuds/VioletAmet) touches the theme of trust in the story [Home Sweet Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198690) – do give it a shot!
> 
> Some pondering on the original conclusion of the snippet can be found [over here](https://cb-space.blogspot.com/2019/10/about-ending-of-trust-shadowrun-hong.html).


	14. [Racter/The Protagonist] Out of Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Note:** Unusually, this chapter is titled to include a warning to those who aren't interested in romantic (?) themes. A reminder that these chapters can feature different protagonists, so this chapter doesn't necessarily have any effect on the others.
> 
> A quick and silly text, not to be taken seriously.

Water flows past Racter’s hands and into the sink. This isn’t the first time I watch them—I’ve been doing that ever since he greeted me for the first time and our hands touched.

I’ve watched how he types commands on his specialized glove; how he disentangles an anti-theft alarm system; how those fingers hold a cigarette between their soft pressure; how those same fingers brush through his hair in a brief unconscious gesture... The complete list would be long.

He stops the water from running and dries his hands against a towel. The piece of cloth has served in the past, too: the rough surface has a couple of holes, and there are already dark stains over it.

“I assumed that you wanted to continue your usual round, my friend”, he says. There’s no hint of surprise in his tone. No wonder: Koschei has kept his eyes on me the whole time.

“I was about to do so, but then it occurred to me—you will be working soon again, aren’t you?” I ask and step closer to him; then I extend my hand and take a hold of his, lifting it up. He gazes me with curiosity as I inspect his palm and fingers: just like before, the skin is warm but rough and now also slightly dry; I can see calluses just like I have in the past, too.

“Hands of a worker”, I say with a nod and look into his eyes. “While I respect your determination and diligence, you could take a better care of your body, Racter.”

“Your gesture of caring is appreciated, but I reassure you that you have nothing to be concerned of. My age should be enough evidence of my capability to take care of myself well enough.”

He almost sneaks his hand out of my hold.

“Perhaps, but you still seem to take a more thorough care of your tools and creations; even when your most valuable asset is your own body”, I continue, keeping his hand firmly in my hold. “As my father used to say: ‘Sharpening the axe won’t slow down the process of cutting down the trees’. I request that you would allow me treat your hands a bit, so that they would serve you in the future, as well.”

He blinks before letting out a short, low chuckle.

“Are you attempting to use your well-known silver tongue to persuade me?” he asks and contemplates my words for a while. “... Frankly, I do not quite understand what you would personally gain out of treating my hands—but let’s say that you managed to amuse me enough to let you try whatever it is you have in mind. But you will need to be quick; time is ticking, and there are only so many hours in a day.”

“Splendid. I would ask you to sit down in that case... That stool could do, for instance.”

Koschei comes to rest next to his legs when he sits down. Both stare while I rummage through my pockets.

“What are you looking for?” the rigger asks.

“I’m trying to find... Ah, yes, this here!” I say and show him a container.

“Shea butter?” he reads aloud and tilts his head. “Are you carrying such an item everywhere you go, or did you bring it along for this purpose?”

“You wouldn’t believe what these pockets can swallow up”, I say. “Not any stools, though...” Koschei takes the hint, rises and reveals another stool from underneath a table. “Oh, thanks. For a murderbot, your son behaves well.”

“For a criminal, you are surprisingly enthusiastic about tending hands”, he remarks, getting a laugh from me in turn.

I apply Shea butter on his palm and spread it evenly by pressing my thumbs gently against his hand, moving in small circular motions.

“Do tell me if you have any aching areas, by the way”, I say, giving his wrist a similar treatment. He doesn’t comment, but I note that his hand becomes more relaxed in my hold. The massage improves his already great blood flow, making his skin very warm to touch. Lifting the sleeve of his shirt reveals the faint paths of his veins, blueish blurred lines; quite a contrast with the strong structure of his wrist. Normal but fascinating details—but I let the sleeve back down to treat his fingers, too, starting from the root of his thumb, pressing it from all sides with my fingers; then releasing it from the hold by moving my fingers upwards, until they slip over the tip of his thumb. Other fingers follow in a similar manner.

After that, I turn his hand so that its back faces the ceiling. His knuckles are particularly worn out due to some unknown reason. There is a mild scar, starting from the root of his ring finger and ending around the spot where his thumb begins. I wonder whether that is due to a run or a minor accident in the workshop.

I’m so concentrated on the task that I do not stop to wonder why Racter is so quiet. When I look at him, I see that he is observing me.

“I believe that’s enough”, he says. Before I manage to open my mouth, he continues: “I agreed to this out of curiosity; and I’ve already satisfied it. Repeating this same process with my other hand would therefore be redundant.“

“Satisfied your curiosity? What does that exactly mean?” I ask, puzzled. He turns his head slightly to the right, giving me a sharp sideways glance.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since I told you of my background; and I noticed how you monitor my every movement. That, I could explain; but your eagerness to moisturize my hands was confusing. I agreed in order to understand your motivations better; to learn what you would gain by getting an opportunity to inspect my hands more closely. While you were spreading the butter, I recalled that you have been reading Sherlock Holmes books lately—“

“Yes, Crafty Xu has borrowed them to me—but where are you going with all this?” I cut in. He smiles in an intimidating manner.

“Don’t pretend as if you didn’t know. As you are aware, Sherlock Holmes analyzes each person he shakes hands with. I suspect that treating my hands was nothing but an excuse to get a peek into my mind.”

I burst into laughter at that point. I almost even drop off the chair. When I finally manage to calm myself down, there are tears at the corners of my eyes.

“You fool”, I say. “Yes, you did get some facts right. I have been watching you a lot. I have also read detective books. But now you are confusing me with your mother—I haven’t done any of that because I’ve doubted you. I simply like reading novels of that genre, and, well”, I pause. “I like you. And as a consequence I like looking at you and taking care of your health. So, yeah—case closed, ace detective Racter?”

It seems like Racter needs a moment to let my words sink in. His reaction isn’t anything dramatic, of course: He simply takes a lighter and a box of cigarettes out of his pocket; and soon he has lit a smoke.

“My apologies for making false accusations in that case”, he says. I use the chance to take a hold of his left hand and give it a massage as well. Racter is once again silent, but now I imagine that he is like that for a new kind of a reason. This time, I massage his wrist as the last area. The button of his sleeve opens up accidentally, though, and that gives me a new idea: I push the fabric back until I get an access to his elbow, to press it with circular motions as well.

A genuinely improvised action; so, when I look up, I really am startled by how close I have gotten to Racter. His face is closer than it ever has been, and he is—just like he always is—locking his eyes with mine. Smoke escapes his lips until there is no more of it in his mouth.

He surprises me by leaning slowly forwards, narrowing the gap between the two of us but not closing it completely; I do that in his place, connecting our foreheads, brushing our noses against each other; and then I press my lips against his.

He tastes like his cigarettes, but that doesn’t come as a surprise. It’s more surprising that his hand finds its way behind my neck—the gentleness of the touch, to be more precise, as gentleness isn’t something one would expect out of this man. I lift my hand to caress the side of his head, right under his ear—and without thinking spread Shea butter there as well.

The kiss ends eventually, though. I lean back, sitting on my stool, and he appears to think something.

I realize that the kiss was a test to prove my words. It seems like I aced the exam, and now he is considering what to do with this type of knowledge. Finally, he stands up, looking at his hands, still holding a burning cigarette pressed between his fingers. Koschei lifts himself with his spider-like limbs.

“Well, I thank you for treating my hands. I admit that they feel better as a result”, he says, returning his gaze to me. “But now you must forgive me as I need time for my projects… Those tasks won’t finish themselves.” He pauses. “Moreover, I’ll need to think over this… situation between us.”

I rise up and push the stool back underneath the table.

“I guessed that you would ask that. Very well—we will talk more later”, I reply. I really did expect him to say something along those lines, so I’m not disappointed.

After that, I take my leave. When I close the lid behind me, my heart begins to thump without a warning, as if it had been waiting for me to get out of his sight first.


	15. [Racter] Questions of Design

Koschei’s head tilts up and down, following the rhythm of a peculiar jumping object on Racter’s desk. At first, I can’t discern what that moving object is—but after a moment, I realize that it’s a small robot with one leg.

“Good day, my friend”, Racter greets me, making me twitch. I was so focused on the jumping robot and Koschei that I didn’t notice him in a dark corner. The rigger stands up and steps into the light.

“Racter... What is this pogo stick?” I ask.

“An experiment with drone locomotion and reinforcement learning”, he replies and extends his hand into the direction of the small robot. It hops off the desk and onto his palm, continuing jumping all the time. “Not a novel invention, but a decent way of putting leftover components into use; moreover, it’s good to practice building and operating different types of designs.”

“Hopefully, you aren’t planning on using this idea for Koschei’s next update”, I say slowly. The mind image of a rapidly jumping Koschei doesn’t tickle my fancy at all.

The mechanic one-legged grasshopper lands over Racter’s shoulder. He chuckles—probably at my facial expression and concerned glances at Koschei.

“In earlier stages, Koschei’s design was based on the anatomy of a hexapod. I decided to drop two limbs and turn him into a quadruped drone—but it’s unlikely that I’ll change that structure anytime soon.”

I admit, I’m not entertained by the idea of extra legs for Koschei either: The mind image reminds me of insects and spiders, both of which make me feel uneasy. Thus, I’m thankful that I’ve never seen any of his original forms.

“Do you have other kinds of plans for the drone, then?” I inquire. Racter shrugs his shoulders, and the jumping drone moves back onto the desk.

“As you have most likely noticed, this drone needs to keep on jumping all the time. If it stops, it cannot maintain its standing pose... A typical con of one-legged models which do not have magically influenced components. Such a drone isn’t the most efficient during runs, as stealth wouldn’t exactly be its strength; on the other hand, the robot could, for example, work as a distraction”, he says. “It did capture your attention only a moment ago, no? It would’ve given me a wonderful opportunity to attack you.”

His smile widens, revealing pearl-white rows of teeth.

“I was aware of Koschei’s location the whole time, so you would’ve had to do the assault yourself… And frankly, Racter, your aiming skills do not intimidate me so much”, I remark.

“While my aim is indeed very poor, you need to consider the distance… Even someone like me would have at least a 90% chance of hitting you critically”, he replies with a carefree tone.

“Are you threatening me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. Racter chuckles.

“I’m merely demonstrating my point, my friend… There is no need to be concerned. I still wish that you’d join me in the post-humanistic future, and you wouldn’t obviously be able to do so if you were dead”, he states. “… Speaking of the post-humanistic future, this drone is relevant for that.”

I silence a sigh before it escapes my lips. Racter doesn’t notice anything, and he continues:

“We will be able to design our own physical vessels, therefore it’s of an utmost importance to work on various techniques for locomotion… But before you get any wrong ideas—I’m not suggesting that one-legged forms would be the predominant design of the future. That would even be quite unlikely. There is, of course, the possibility that one would be forced into using only one limb: say, one’s other limbs might become damaged during combat. One-legged models may also be more energy-efficient; and they may advance fast on terrains which would be bothersome to some other types of legged models. That’s why even this rather unpractical creation may provide useful insight. It might lead to fascinating inventions and ideas, given enough time...” he explains.

“Okay...” I simply say. “Speaking of post-humanistic forms... What kinds of plans do you have for yourself?”

He contemplates for a moment.

“I do not have specific plans because any new piece of information might transform them. As I’ve mentioned before, I may someday merge myself with Koschei—but I hope to make some modifications to him before that. Say, these hands”, he lifts his hands, curling the fingers. “While evolution is far from an elegant way of developing biological structures—it is too arbitrary and slow—it can result in practical systems, given time for countless rounds of trial-and-error. As precise as Koschei is in his own unique way, he doesn’t currently possess equipment which would replace the functionality of having fingers. That may change, though.”

Koschei with humanoid hands... This conversation is feeding me way too many creepy ideas.

“What about you, my friend?”

“Huh?” I blurt out, shaking away the vision of Koschei with human arms.

“What kind of a vessel would fascinate you?” the rigger elaborates. He appears genuinely interested in my response. I, in turn, am uneasy by the turn of this discussion: I didn’t come here to talk about the post-humanistic future, especially my part in it.

Therefore I’m relieved when the lid opens and Gaichu steps inside.

“This is an interesting conversation, Racter—but I’m afraid that I should have an important talk with Gaichu now that he is here. He is coming along to the next run, and I have some questions for him...”

And so I greet the ghoul and retreat into his room, happy to get back into more normal topics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50% of Racter's cognitive resources were reserved for preventing Koschei from breaking the grasshopper drone.
> 
> EDIT: "A con of one-legged models" > "A _typical_ con of one-legged models". Noticed that one word was missing there. Modified Racter's speech otherwise a bit to be a bit clearer / more precise.
> 
> Moreover, adding [a link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFmeHPVtK0o) to a real very neat one-legged jumping robot.


	16. [Gaichu] Shapes

Maybe it says something about my lifestyle that I’m used to waking up in odd places. After countless similar experiences, I’m not startled by the unusual smells and the surrounding darkness. I note immediately that I’m lying on a ragged but cozy surface. I do not move right away, as sometimes it is for the best to gather more insight before revealing that you are conscious.

First of all, I scan my health. It appears that my left side is wounded but stitched and bandaged. I’ve been drugged because I would surely feel pain otherwise.

No-one talks. The sound of water comes from a nearby source—probably the sea. That and the slight swaying suggest that I’m on a ship... and if my gut feeling is correct, I must be located below the surface of the water. Some kind of a machinery hums in the distance.

After some time, I think that a paper flutters in the dark room.

“Gaichu?” I ask and open my eyes completely. My voice is weaker than I’d prefer.

“Ahh, so you finally figured the situation. I have been waiting with anticipation for the moment you stop pretending to be sleeping still”, the ghoul says.

“What gave me away?”

“The rhythm of your heart and breathing. They tend to change when a person wakes up... especially if they wake up in potentially dangerous circumstances”, he explains. “As you know, my capability of hearing is excellent.”

“Oh, I see”, I reply. I do not lift myself up, but I keep looking at the direction of his voice, trying to discern his shape. The ship sways, making the door open up slightly more and allowing some more light to come in.

That’s when I notice many small figures scattered around me. Not alive—it doesn’t take me longer than a quickly fleeting second to see that they are made out of paper. Birds, bunnies, crabs, octopuses, flowers—a whole army of different designs next to the futon.

“Origami?” I ask.

“Indeed. This room had plenty of paper scraps, so I decided to use them for something”, he says. The sounds and his posture tell me that he is folding paper even right now. “You have probably heard of _senbazuru_ , one thousand origami cranes?”

“The tradition of giving one thousand paper cranes to a sick person?”

“You are on the right tracks. While I was monitoring your health, I recalled that tradition; and figured that I might as well indulge in creating some origami while I wait”, he says.

“You have also made other designs besides cranes”, I point out.

“You do not need the blessing of gods to recover, I’m sure. Just enough resting and medical treatment”, he states. I hear a shredding sound, and Gaichu hisses in disappointment.

“These claws would make me a better kirigami artist, but I’m not interested in that”, he says while he crumbles the paper into a ball and tosses it into a bin.

“Doesn’t your blindness have any impact?” I ask. After taking another piece of paper, Gaichu answers:

“Hmm. You might assume that the impacts would be solely on the negative side, and your guess wouldn’t be completely wrong. Many resources for practicing origami are inaccessible to me; furthermore, I can’t use my eyes to analyze shapes and forms. On the other hand... This might surprise you, but I believe that I’m actually better at origami now than I used to be back in the day.”

“Do you know any reason for that?”

“There could be various explanations. I might pay more attention to shapes because I need to feel them instead of just looking at them. I might have become more mature and patient in time, as well. Not to say that I’ve become a master at origami—far from it. I’m simply comparing these results to my past ones, and those past creations were far from... impressive, you might say”, he takes a pause. “Sayuri was excellent at the craft, in turn.”

I know that perhaps I shouldn’t urge him to continue talking of her, but I can’t help my curiosity.

“... What kinds of designs did she create?”

Gaichu folds the paper in silence before replying:

“Many kinds. She could conjure a beautiful dragon out of simple materials, or make various insects with rich details. She was particularly fond of using origami to illustrate mathematical surfaces and chemical structures.”

“I can understand dragons and insects, but this is the first time I hear that someone would fold mathematical and chemical depictions”, I comment.

“It’s possible that you haven’t heard of such an application of origami before. It is rather widely used, though.”

His tone tells me that I shouldn’t pry any longer. Instead of that, I decide to do some personal research on the topic and let Sayuri return to the land of silent memories. I’ve been observing the origami creatures close to me for some time, but somehow, my eyes have missed one figure until now.

“... Is that... a Koschei?” I ask slowly. Gaichu gives me a sly grin.

“It’s good to hear that the design passed the test. I was pondering whether I managed to make a recognizable design of the drone.”

“It’s really good. Even too good”, I say while staring at the creation. “How did you do this? As you said just a moment ago, you cannot use your eyes to analyze 3D objects; how, then, can this art piece be so precise?”

“Didn’t I also say that I can ‘see’ through feeling the shapes?”

“But that would require you to...” I say, then pause. “... Are you implying that you have touched the drone all over its body?”

“You agree that it’s the only explanation, don’t you?” he says in turn. “Koschei was rather inhospitable to me in the beginning, and I wouldn’t have risked my safety just to form a more precise idea of its structure; but as time has passed by, the drone has been quite calm in my presence, especially while I’ve been discussing with Racter. I asked Racter for a permission to examine the drone more closely, and he allowed me to do so.”

I’m somewhat baffled by the information. It feels strange to imagine how Gaichu’s claws and fingers trail the chassis of the drone, as if he was caressing a dog; and how Racter keeps smoking beside them, chatting with the ghoul.

“Are you going to show your creation to Racter?” I ask.

“Not yet... I’m waiting for a good timing”, Gaichu says, and I can see that he is amused by whatever plan he has in mind.

“... What good timing, exactly?”

He finishes another flower and adds it into the paper crowd.

“The moment when it is Racter’s turn to become injured or sick. I request that you leave him in my care when that happens. His reaction would most likely be entertaining...”

I have a feeling that Gaichu would have more Koscheis than just one; that Racter would wake up to notice that he is surrounded by a whole legion of little drones, all turned to look at his lying form.

I admit, the idea amuses me a lot.

“It would be, most likely”, I say, smiling. I’d probably laugh if the sensation of weariness wasn’t dragging me down. “... I think that I might need to sleep some more...”

“In that case, rest. We can talk more later”, Gaichu replies; and thus I close my eyes and drift asleep, feeling comfortable and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racter and Gaichu would probably venture into discussing e.g. [these types of robots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVYz7g-qLjs).


	17. [Gaichu & Racter] The Consequences of Actions

I let it happen. I should have done something about it, but I just stood and watched and listened to the sounds of tearing flesh, breaking bones and screaming. I’m used to killing people, but that— _that_ was torture. Ishida stayed conscious for way too long, too, or it all just felt like an eternity; I’m not sure anymore.  
  
Maybe I would’ve done something about it if I hadn’t seen those dreams. Teeth and people turning into piles of meat and blood. The scenario pulled me back into those dreams and—as ashamed as I am to confess it—I became paralyzed. And so I didn’t even free the man from his misery. I just left him there, lying on the floor, bleeding, waiting for the pain and the spreading infection to drive him mad.  
  
I don't say anything on our way back to the ship. I don't go to the normal round around the town. I flee into my room, lock the door, sit on the edge of the bed and stare into the surrounding darkness for the rest of the night, until my body finally forces me to sleep.  
  
I avoid Gaichu for a couple of days after that night. He doesn't approach me either. Maybe he wants me to make the first move, to reveal the thoughts which are racing inside my head. Maybe he doesn't even notice that I haven't visited him, breaking the usual routine. Either way, others do not let me forget:  
  
“Don’t put me in the same team with that psychopath”, Is0bel states clearly when I’m visiting her. By ‘ _psychopath_ ’, she refers to Gaichu. Is0bel was on that same run, too. She saw it. I wonder what it all looked like from her perspective. She has always been mysterious to me—remote, restrained, silent, reserved—which makes me particularly curious of the hidden side of her.  
  
But wouldn’t it just be plain cruel to pry after forcing her to recall her past? I’ve threaded too far to push further right now.  
  
So I only promise her that I’ll keep her request in mind. 

And, more than that, I promise to myself that I’ll do something about this tonight. I can't keep on avoiding Gaichu like a coward. I need to see him.  
  
I go downstairs after my discussion with Is0bel. The metallic stairs sound particularly cold that night for some unknown reason. My heart is a tight fist beneath the chest.  
  
Gaichu’s door is open, and there’s a candle inside his room. Racter rests on the floor with Gaichu; the former half lying, leaning against Koschei; the latter sitting, legs crossed. In between them is a Go board, and they appear to be in the middle of a conversation while playing. The smell of smoke floats in the air.  
  
Such a normal scenario. Their relaxed leisurely interaction is completely alien to my inner tension. I stop and listen to their conversation for a moment.  
  
“... Your idea of instincts is interesting. It reminds me of a poem which I read...” the rigger says.  
  
“What kind of poem?” Gaichu asks and places a black stone on the board.  
  
“I’m afraid that I cannot recite it without seeking reference; in any case, the poem was about a centipede which runs smoothly with its several limbs. A mischievous toad comes and asks how the centipede does the running; and when the centipede starts thinking how it does it, it stumbles and falls.”  
  
The former red samurai chuckles at that.  
  
“That does summarize the problem of relying too much on one’s self-awareness. Subconscious knowledge and skills are much faster and more precise as a result of practicing. We could advance the point of your example and say that sharpened instincts improve also decision-making; something which men tend to consider to be the duty of conscious rationalizing...”  
  
“Just like leaving Ishida like that?” I find myself asking aloud.  
  
Neither one of the men seems to be surprised by my interference. Racter lifts himself into a sitting position and looks at me with curiosity, while Gaichu stays in the same position.  
  
“... You haven’t visited me for some time, my friend. I was wondering whether you are simply busy due to other responsibilities, or whether you became disturbed by the end of the mission. The answer seems to be the latter”, Gaichu says finally. “Do come in. We need to discuss.”  
  
I step into the dimly lit room. Gaichu has cleaned the floor so much that there’s enough space for the three of us and Koschei. However, I glance at the rigger and request him to leave us alone.  
  
“I could, of course, move into my workshop, but the distance would be hardly enough to obfuscate your conversation”, Racter points out. I give Gaichu an asking glance.  
  
“I do not mind his presence personally”, the ghoul says.  
  
“Fine”, I reply. Maybe it’s for the best that Racter is there, after all—although I wonder whose support he is in the end: Gaichu’s or mine? Assuming that he is on any side but his own.  
  
Racter places a Go stone on the board. I notice that it’s not a typical board: it has round slots instead of vertical and horizontal lines, and the stones themselves seem to be covered with two kinds of materials.  
  
“To return to your question: I didn’t make the decision as a sudden impulse. It was the result of the countless steps which had led me to that point”, Gaichu says. His claws and fingers seek the new piece Racter placed on the board; when he locates it, he gives out a low and thoughtful hum.  
  
“What steps could justify such a sadistic revenge, I wonder?” I question. “I could understand your motivations to pressure the Elders, but that was because your killings were at least merciful. The whole deal with Ishida made me reconsider, though... Frankly, I do not know who you are anymore: a person or just an endless force of vengeance? Is this how you react whenever someone angers you?”  
  
“It seems like our friend is being in a puritanical mood once again“, Racter remarks with a mocking smile.  
  
“Racter”, I state dryly. The rigger shrugs and leans against Koschei, allowing Gaichu and me to continue the discussion. The ghoul considers my words in silence at first; then, he speaks calmly:  
  
“I do not deny that my actions were affected by personal factors, at least to some degree. Of course they were. The Elders refused to honor our contract and attempted to eliminate me in one way or another; my past team members, in turn, forced us to continue the dance of death till the very end. Both events were influenced by my state and their insistence to consider me and many others subhuman. I was naturally angered. However, the motivations behind my actions go deeper than my own personal feelings and thoughts.”  
  
“Elaborate.”  
  
Gaichu takes a stone and places it on the board. Racter follows the movement with interest, still resting in a relaxed posture against Koschei.  
  
“I wouldn’t make exaggerated spectacles if I was seeking only personal revenge. You most likely recall the story of Hiruko, the leech child of Izanami and Izanagi?”  
  
“Yes, you told me of it. What about it?”  
  
“All kinds of stories—that one included—have the power of influencing minds. The Elders tried to keep the events a secret or control the rumors, but they couldn’t stop different kinds of stories from rising. Even though I still think that jailing them was a too mild punishment, I find satisfaction in the fact that the real story spread wide and far. That may teach people to act with more dignity than the Elders did”, Gaichu continues. “As for Ishida: We didn’t leave any recordings behind, but someone found Ishida and the others sooner or later. Ishida’s state would make it clear what kind of a creature defeated glorified human samurais. The Red Samurai is strict about subduing demotivating rumors, but that control cannot stop the silent whispers from spreading around. In hindsight, it's a shame that we couldn’t leave behind signs of Is0bel and other metahuman members; that would’ve made the impact greater.”  
  
I do not mention that Is0bel would’ve skipped the honor of being part of the story.  
  
“So you wanted to create tales—but what could mere stories do in practice, really?” I ask. 

Racter makes his move, and Gaichu locates the new piece again with his fingers.  
  
“You shouldn’t underestimate the power of stories. Almost all significant movements have grown out of them”, he replies. “While I can’t and won’t dedicate my existence to idealistic quests, I do not want a Japan which is ruled by ignorance. I do not want a system which brainwashes people. I do not want places like the Yomi Island to exist. Since I had to kill my team to free myself from the spiral, I figured that I could use the opportunity to send a message.”  
  
“That doesn’t change the fact that your methods were indescribably cruel”, I point out.  
  
“You might have a different opinion if you knew what Ishida had done”, Gaichu says, making me fall silent. I’m not ready to hear what kinds of monstrosities the man had caused or allowed to happen; so I do not inquire Gaichu to tell more.  
  
“Is your conversation finally over?” Racter asks.“I’m not sure...”, I say thoughtfully. I really am not completely convinced yet, but I admit that Gaichu’s calm explanation makes me less tense. Racter sighs.  
  
“Come, come, my friend. Surely you notice that you are being a tiresome hypocrite once again? As a shadowrunner, you sometimes accept even brutal jobs which are centered on revenge. You demand that Gaichu’s motivations shouldn’t be about personal revenge at all, yet accept money from people who pay you to satisfy their desire for blood?” the rigger says, unimpressed.  
  
I take a long and slow inhale.  
  
“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stop. Just promise me that you do not make similar performances in the future, Gaichu?”  
  
“The only exceptions being my two former contacts. Their story would surely work as a lecture...” Racter starts, and Koschei's limbs tear against the floor.  
  
“ _ **Racter**_ ”, I state with an even bigger emphasis. The rigger chuckles, and I think that he murmurs the word: “ _spoilsport_ ”. I sigh and stand up.  
  
“Now that we got through this conversation, I think that I’ll let you two focus on the game. Good night.”  
  
Gaichu and Racter return the wishes, and I go back upstairs, thinking that there’s grim humor in the fact that those two live in the basement out of all the places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racter is talking of [this poem](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Centipede%27s_Dilemma).


	18. [Gobbet, Duncan Wu, Gaichu, Racter] A Ride Back Home

The whole team was quiet after the run. Gobbet lay over a seat like a thin blanket, eyes closed, her rats equally exhausted if not even more. Next to her, Duncan was leaning forwards, pressing his head against his hands. His fingers rubbed over his temples so hard that the skin became wrinkled under the massage.

Gaichu and Racter sat on the other side. The ghoul hadn’t spoken a word after we had gotten into the train: he had only stared out of the window with his blind eyes. He seemed both absentminded and contemplative, which made me wonder what he was thinking. Racter, in turn, was weary like the rest of us, but he still had a satisfied vibe going on around him.

Where was I, you ask? Standing in the narrow hallway, taking support from a pole to stop me from toppling over Koschei.

“So... I guess we should celebrate?” I said to break the ice.

“By going to bed right afterwards, right”, Duncan stated. “I swear, if I hear even the slightest buzz in my room, I will...”

“I’m afraid that a grenade would be an overkill against a normal mosquito, Gun Show”, Gobbet said without opening her eyes.

“I wasn’t talking of _normal_ mosquitoes, Gobbet”, Duncan replied and gave a glare at the rigger. Racter ran his fingers over a bag on his lap.

“ _This_? This specimen won’t cause you any trouble, I reassure you”, he said.

“You better make sure that it won’t. Why did you even want to take one of those drones with you?” Duncan asked.

“You can blame the simple curiosity of a rigger. I’m impressed by the level of detail of the model. For instance, the proboscis with the biologically accurate number of needles, only in a much larger size...”

“There he goes again”, Gobbet yawned and changed her position. The rats weren’t startled by the movement; in fact, it seemed like they adjusted to the changes without even waking up. Madness stretched its limbs, though, before turning on its side.

“Racter, I hope that you remember your promise... Don’t fix and switch that monster on”, I reminded.

“Why would I do so? As we already witnessed, the programming of the drone isn’t on par with its physical elegance...”

“A bug within a bug, who knew! The researchers didn’t, obviously, or else their end could have been more merciful”, the shaman commented.

”They knew. I checked their emails, and they had discussed the problem”, I said.

“Then why did they try to use the drones?” Duncan asked.

“I guess they were desperate. They probably thought that we had been sent to kill them... No wonder, though, considering the reason why they were building drones which suck and store blood.”

“Yeah...” Duncan said with a nod. “What a way to go, not that I feel sorry for the bastards.”

I had never been a sadist, but I didn’t feel sorry for them either. You reap what you sow, they say, and if you make deals with blood magic creeps, then it’s only fitting that you get fragged up.

The train stopped at our destination. Gaichu—who hadn’t even still uttered a single word—stood up and followed right behind my back when we exited the vehicle. After I had observed him for a moment, I couldn’t help but ask:

“Hey Gaichu, what are you thinking?”

Gaichu’s head tilted into my direction as if I had stirred him awake from a dream.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“What’s going on inside your head? You have been so silent.”

“To put it in brief... this”, Gaichu said and, without a warning, his voice rose surprisingly high into an awful continuous noise. Duncan’s shoulders flinched, and he turned around to look at Gaichu and me with a furious expression.

“Didn’t I just warn you that if I hear that sound again I _will_ —“

He stopped when he noticed that the source wasn’t the stolen drone. He glanced at Racter who gave him a shrug in return. Gaichu lowered his voice back to normal.

“That’s what has been invading my thoughts. That noise. While my level of hearing is usually an advantage, this time, it was a curse. You cannot even begin to imagine what kinds of nuances the buzzing of a mosquito may possess...”

Gobbet started to laugh—at Gaichu’s performance or Duncan’s face or both, I wasn’t certain. But it did feel nice to hear some light laughter after all that drekking mess.


End file.
